oh how I burn
by AkaOkamiRyu
Summary: A series of Snowbarry one-shots & drabbles - Chapter 21: Swimming Lessons. Barry, Caitlin, Cisco, Iris and Eddie head out for a day at the beach and Barry gives Caitlin a swimming lesson. Flirting and water fights ensue.
1. how I burn

She's known him (really known him, not just the familiar, comatose body she guards over, but the pure hearted, sometimes awkward but always well meaning man she works with) for scarcely a month when he makes the comment: we were all struck by that lightning.

At the time, her lips tug upwards and she catches Dr. Wells' eyes and she agrees with the sentiment but it's a while yet before she realizes how very accurate his words are.

* * *

><p>Central City is covered in a delicate (i.e.: dangerous) mixture of ice and snow and Barry Allen is covered in a disastrous (i.e.: disappearing) mixture of thin scratches and raw skin. He's sitting in what has become his usual seat on the med table, and she too is in her usual seat, hovering over him on a high stool, quickly disinfecting the injuries before they heal over. Cisco is elsewhere in the lab, gleefully making modified shoes for the Flash and Dr. Wells is just elsewhere.<p>

She's doing her best to hold on to the disapproving scowl she tries to always maintain when patching Barry up, but the situation that created his wounds is so ridiculous (though not as ridiculous as his childlike pouting), that it's a battle she knows she'll soon lose. (Leave it to Barry Allen to forget to account for the reduced traction of winter roads and go sliding on his face and hands like an awkward toddler).

"You know, you can laugh Caitlin," he grouses, the tone so uncharacteristic that she startles. Dark brown eyes tear from the last of his lacerations to catch green through a slender forest of dark lashes. The quiet laugh that has been building at each disinfectant-caused flinch dies on her lips. Despite his tone, his eyes are dancing with mirth and that would be reassuring if it wasn't so distracting.

Caught in the shared gaze, she loses track of her limbs for the briefest moment, until Barry winces at the string of antiseptic and they startled out of the eye lock as easily as they startled into it.

This time she does laugh, partially because she can't help it and partially because it's the least awkward way to move past whatever's just happened. "I wonder what the bad guys would say if they knew that the Flash, Central City's big hero, could be brought down by snow and hydrogen peroxide?"

"They'd probably tell me to find a nicer doctor," he teases back, enjoying the play on words. The green of his eyes is blazing so brightly, she can only roll hers in response.

* * *

><p>They were all struck by lightning—she just never expected it would lead to this kind of burn.<p>

* * *

><p>Obviously, I do not own the Flash or these characters. This is just the first of many bits &amp; pieces inspired by the fantastic chemistry between Grant Gustin &amp; Danielle Panabaker.<p> 


	2. apologies & forgiveness

It's not long after Team Arrow leaves that Team Flash begins to disperse for the evening as well. It's been a tense, busy two days and they're ready for a reprieve, brief though it will certainly be. As much as Barry wants to head home, sleep off the awful decisions of his day, he knows he has work to do.

He dons his suit and makes his pleas, but Iris isn't interested in them. He can't blame her: what he'd done, whatever the reason, was unforgiveable. And like he'd told Oliver, even if the rage had pushed him forward, there had been at least a bit of Barry Allen in his actions. He should have listened to Caitlin when she'd told him to leave her alone. Now he doesn't have much choice.

Foolishly, he wishes he weren't wearing his Flash gear. If ever there was a time for a long, slow walk, it's now.

But there's one more apology that's more than due and it's one he certainly can't let slide.

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><p>Just as he suspects, Caitlin's still in the lab when he returns. Cisco and Dr. Wells had left when he did, but she's lingering late as usual. Standing in the doorway, watching her click through something on the computer, he makes just one step inside before thinking better of it. Barry Allen made this mess, Barry Allen should be the one to fix it. In the blink of an eye, he's changed into his normal clothes and retakes that first step forward.<p>

"Hey Caitlin," he calls out, tentatively, not wanting to startle her, as if attempting to minimize the disruptions he makes in her life.

He does anyway; she always focuses so completely on whatever task is at hand that it's nearly impossible not to surprise her. But her focus is an attribute he greatly appreciates, one that's helped him save the day many times so far and will probably many times to come.

"I thought you'd already left." The pointed look she gives him says that she's not as clueless as she's making herself to be: she knows exactly what he'd been up to a few minutes ago.

His apologies to Iris and Oliver might have come first but this one is monumentally the most important (which is probably why he'd put it off for last). Of all the relationships he'd manage to screw up in the last two days, this is the one that least deserves it. His anger at Iris and Oliver had had precursors, some rationale, no matter how poor, that had added fuel to the flames and given him at least the smallest hint of justification for his anger, if not his actions. But Caitlin has been by his side since the start of this, supporting both parts of him with equal tenacity. And all she's ever asked is that he's careful, that he does his best not to add to the list of tragedy she's encountered.

How on earth could he have held any anger, even meta-human induced, for one of the few people left in his life who knew and accepted all of him? Who just wanted to be sure that Barry Allen didn't trade his life for the Flash?

He has to make it right. He can't do this without Caitlin's support; he doesn't want to. "I did, but I came back." The eye-roll that his words provoke stings a little, but he knows he deserves it. Still standing by the doorway, he leans against the frame, digging in for the task ahead. "Listen, Caitlin, I'm sorry. I should have never snapped at you. Crazy red-eye rage or not, you're the last person in the world who deserves to be yelled at."

She opens her mouth, to argue, agree, he doesn't know but he raises a hand to stop her. "You fix all my mistakes, you listen to my doubts, you constantly try to stop me from doing every stupid thing I do. And the only thing I've ever been able to help you with was to give you someone to confide in and yet I managed to take advantage of all that when I yelled at you earlier. I have no idea how to make it up to you, how to make this better but I promise I will."

"Barry, I know it wasn't really you or your fault, I understand but I do appreciate the apology. You don't have to make it up to me, I get it. It's an occupational hazard." She's far too kind, too understanding, too desperate for the constancy of their friendship (he feels so much the same that he's choking on the desperation and the relief). As much as he wants it, she gives in too quickly and in some way frustrates him (residual anger maybe?) because she deserves better and more. But she won't demand it from him, not when she thinks he already suffers too much.

"Well," he brightens after a moment, let's the relief win out, because she may forgive him too easily, and he may not deserve it, but he's recently learned about not taking people for granted. She might give her forgiveness without him needing to earn it but that doesn't mean he can't fight to deserve it. "I'm going to anyway. You've been here for me through all this, and I don't want you to doubt that I'm here for you too. That's how this all works, right?"

"Right Barry."

* * *

><p>Because we all want apology fics. Wrote this shortly after but I usually post everything to tumblr first (chasingblue57) and then add it here after I've had time to poke and prod a bit.<p>

If you have any prompts or requests, feel free to shoot them over and I'll do my best on weekends between lesson planning.

Thanks & Take Care!

A.O.R.


	3. thank yous & threats

**Thank Yous & Threats**

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><p>Oliver had heard a lot about 'Team Flash' when Felicity had returned to Starling City after her visit a few months ago. He'd learned all about Cisco, Caitlin, Dr. Wells and of course, Barry's new powers and thought he'd had a pretty good read on their team. It doesn't take long for him to decide that Felicity may have been a bit short on the mark when it came to one member of the Central City crime fighters.<p>

Caitlin Snow is brilliant and fierce, but not exactly physically intimidating. She may radiate confidence, poise and intelligence and might be a formidable presence in any room, but she does not exude an aura of danger by any means. Or at least, that's what he's been lead to believe, through Felicity's stories and descriptions.

When he and Barry walk into S.T.A.R. labs after all is said and done (eminent threats no longer eminent, secret identities no longer secret), his opinion changes drastically. They're in the middle of some seemingly innocuous conversations, Cisco and Felicity are talking about the boomerang findings, Digg is asking Barry rapid fire questions about his powers and Caitlin is checking something on a tablet until suddenly she's not, instead walking over to where Oliver is watching the two teams interact. He waits for her to comment, doesn't know her well enough to feel it's his place to pull a conversation she might not be sure she wants to have.

"Hey, Oliver?" She calls out tentatively. He catches the resolve settle across the otherwise calm set of her facial muscles from the corner of his eye.

"Yes?" He immediately, and unconsciously, begins to split his attention between his team and the brunette, turned toward her politely, but gaze still casting out for Felicity and Digg at random intervals.

"I just wanted to say, thank you for trying to help Barry earlier. Trying to help him see how important it is to be prepared, rather than go running into danger." She sounds like she is only too familiar with the complications that arise from this particular problem; it causes his lips to tick up in a grin. He's more than glad to share the benefit of too much experience and injury and bloodshed. If he can help someone do better than he has, at least there'll be some value in it.

"Of course—" Oliver begins, only to have the doctor interrupt, voice suddenly more sharp than grateful, a pointed, do-not-cross-me look taking over what has thus far been a friendly face. She suddenly has his almost totally undivided attention (he's a little blind sided by the sudden change).

"However, speaking as the person who regularly spends their time disinfecting and patching his wounds, I'd appreciate if your future coaching methods didn't include putting holes in him. Okay?" It's not a question with multiple choice answers, her tone says that plainly enough. Bemused and surprised by this new facet to a woman he thought he'd pretty easily figured out, Oliver just nods and wonders where that came from, shooting a look to Felicity who is completely unaware of his need for back up. "Wonderful. Thanks again Oliver." And she's walking away as if she didn't just serve up an under-the-table threat to the Arrow.

* * *

><p>This idea came up as I was watching the Flash side of the crossover two weeks ago. I can just imagine Caitlin being grateful that the Arrow is trying to teach Barry a lesson about preparation only to find out he's shooting him with sharp objects and then diving into ticked off territory. I could totally see Caitlin Snow threaten the Arrow.<p>

If you have any prompts, feel free to leave them and I'll do my best. Constructive suggestions are also always welcome-thanks for reading!

Take Care & Best Wishes

A.O.R.


	4. slowing down

Slowing Down

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><p>Caitlin wears a dress or a skirt practically every day. In fact it's stranger to see her wearing pants than anything else, so it's not as if he's not used to the sight of her bare skin. And it's not like he doesn't know Caitlin is beautiful, objectively or otherwise. Because she is, completely: only a fool wouldn't notice her soft curls, expressive eyes, well shaped legs and bright smile. Not to mention her sharp wit, the passionate way she dives into her work, the ferocity with which she protects the people she values. Barry has spent the better part of the last year surrounded by those things, becoming plenty familiar with all that is Caitlin Snow.<p>

And yet, here he is, slack jawed and starry eyed at the sight of her-like every cheesy chick flick he'd watched with Iris growing up.

They're at the annual Central City Police Department fundraiser. As an employee, he's required to go but the rest of Team Flash had been given tickets by Joe as the only thank you he knows he can give them for all they do. Barry had arrived half an hour earlier because he'd promised Joe he would help with some last minute set up but he finds himself wishing he'd come with his team, if only to have gotten this embarrassing gawking done when he wasn't standing in a room with 200+ coworkers, socialites and donors. Then again, at least in the crowd they don't notice the expression.

It has to be the color, he decides a moment later, resolute and blinking back his stupor as Cisco and Caitlin spot him and make their way through the crowd. The red of her dress is exactly a match for his Flash costume and that can't be a coincidence, but it's certainly a distraction. The cut of it's nothing scandalous, but the bits and pieces of pale skin contrasting the red are really more alluring for the hints. (And when the heck did these thoughts come into play? But again, his color on any woman would be distracting, he reassures himself). Forcing a normal smile, Barry greets his two friends and they get down to the business of socializing and enjoying the evening.

* * *

><p>It's after eleven and Barry is ready to pat himself on the back for how well he's put himself together after the evening's initial shock. But he's a glutton for punishment and so, when he sees Caitlin staring blankly across the dance floor, laughing silently as Cisco attempts to draw one of the data techs onto it, he can't help himself. The music changes from a quick tempo to a slow one and his hand is reaching out almost of its own volition.<p>

"Dance with me Dr. Snow?" He asks playfully, with a confidence born of familiarity. Her answering smile is equal parts familiar and not but the tug it pulls in his stomach is certainly nothing he's ever felt before.

She doesn't even bother to answer, just sets her champagne glass on the table and lets him pull her away, inserting them carefully amongst the crowd. They tangle themselves together and for a moment Barry contemplates the benefits of a world that doesn't move at more than 500 miles an hour (a thought that only strengthens at the feel of her fingers ghosting along the back of his neck). "You look lovely tonight Caitlin," he mentions after a moment of silent, but largely meaningless, conversation. (One of the things he's most grown to treasure about their friendship is how easily they can say anything with a few glances).

"Who would have thought, Barry Allen, is a charmer?" she teases, grinning up at him. "But thank you, the color caught my eye more than anything." His fingers tighten at her waist and suddenly he can't help but wonder if she knows-knows exactly how distracted he's been all night, catching glances from the corner of his eye, fast as lightning while no one is looking.

Of course she does, he realizes. Caitlin Snow is always a half-step ahead of him. She's probably been seeing things he hasn't for a while now, just waiting for the fastest man alive to catch up.

Funny how that only happens when he manages to slow down and notice the details. Now that he has, he isn't going to let it pass him by. "Mine too," he smiles, tugging her a little bit closer, cheek pressed to her hair, fingers tracing absent patterns along her lower back, scarcely even bothing to sway along with the song he barely hears playing over them.

Some things are worth slowing down for.

* * *

><p>I got caught up in the idea of Barry suddenly seeing Caitlin in a new light and then got the idea of her wearing something in Flash red and well, here we are. Might revisit this in the future, either a rewrite, an addition or reuse the concept and give it another go. Let me know your thoughts :)<p>

Take Care & Best Wishes,

A.O.R.


	5. the benefits of experience

**The Benefits of Experience**

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><p>In the fourteen months since Barry Allen woke up, Caitlin Snow's life has turned utterly upside down more times than she's willing to contemplate. Between meta-humans, near death experiences, helping to fight crime, finding her former fiancé alive, watching him walk away, finding the man who'd killed Barry's mother and helping his father go free, it's been nothing short of a roller coaster. Thankfully, those fourteen months have brought her strengthened and new friendships that she knows have kept her sane and seen them all through.<p>

Tonight is not any sort of exception.

They're actually on a (Dr. Wells approved) trip in Starling City, having come to help Team Arrow deal with a particularly nasty meta-human hell bent on destruction (which was basically SOP for most meta-humans as far as she can tell).

But the bad guys have been beaten and all is temporarily well with the world and they've decided it's time to unwind, which is how they all find themselves sitting in the back corner of a quiet bar. They're drinking and laughing, enjoying the relative quiet of a Tuesday night. Oliver and Barry have taken their (mostly) playfully competitive streaks to the dartboard and Diggle's testing his natural aptitude for pool against Cisco's natural aptitude for physics and Roy's natural aptitude for pool sharking. Which leaves Caitlin and Felicity to catch up over their own drinks at the table.

Felicity is in the middle of particularly ridiculous story that involves Roy, little Sarah and baby powder when she notices that her audience's attention has wavered. Rather than try and re-catch Caitlin's attention, she follows where it leads and notices that her decidedly spaced out gaze is on Barry.

Felicity Smoak is many things (tech genius, babbler, secret city saver) but blind is not one of them. She's been watching the dynamic shift between Barry and Caitlin for a year now, maybe longer and she's honestly surprised that their whole world hasn't just given up and tipped on its axis yet (though granted, who is she to talk?). She remembers visiting Barry when he was still in his coma, remembers seeing the detached and closed off doctor who tended to her patient with clinical language and very little empathy. She also remembers Cisco pulling her away after one such visit and finally just explaining her brusque nature.

She remembers the Caitlin Snow of those early months after Barry'd woken up, how she seemed more alive with each encounter: smiling a little more, laughing more often, opening up to people in a way that initially surprised the hell out of Felicity, given what she had once seen and knew. It wasn't hard to see what, or who, had begun to make the difference. Their friendship, Felicity knew, was built on a strong foundation of shared life experiences and beliefs. They both knew loss and they both knew what it felt like to want to build a better world out of it.

Even in the wake of Ronnie's return, of Firestorm, Felicity had watched their relationship strengthen. She knew, second hand granted, how Barry had been willing to sacrifice almost anything to stop Ronnie without hurting him, how badly he'd been injured for the attempt. They had come to help after that, and she had seen with her own eyes how closely they'd gravitated to one another, seeking strength and comfort from the person they'd both grown used to providing it. Eventually, they'd gotten through to Caitlin's former fiancé and begun to help him. It was the first time in all the time she'd known her, that strong, poised Caitlin Snow seemed to falter. Felicity couldn't blame her. But in the end, Ronnie had left the life that no longer belonged to him. Barry had been there through it all.

If she were a betting woman, which she totally no longer is (thank you poorly executed infiltration of an illegal gambling operation), she'd say that they love each other. Felicity isn't quite sure you can go through the things they have, be someone's rock like that, and not come out on the other side loving someone in some way. But she's pretty sure they've never had the conversation and she's got a pretty jaded personal history that tells her exactly why that is.

But Caitlin and Barry are not her and Oliver and if Felicity can help it, they never will be.

"You should talk to him," she says finally, because Caitlin hasn't noticed her sudden silence and her gaze hasn't shifted either.

"Talk to who?" Her whole posture startles a bit and her dark gaze swivels back to her tablemate, catching up her beer and talking a deep drink as if to clear her frayed attention.

Felicity can't blame the denial: she's been there. And maybe she is reading it all wrong, or maybe they're just not reading it at all yet, or maybe it's as simple as it seems: just a denial of a truth Caitlin is hiding from. She's not in a position to judge.

"I've been there, you know." She says instead, playing with her glass of wine and feeling even more reflective then she had a moment ago. "I don't think you can live the life we do and not start to walk that line with them, not the way we live it anyway." Fully committed, without much thought to an 'outside' world or any semblance of normalcy. With the knowledge that you have to become everything to one another, because who the hell else can do that?

"Oliver and I stretched ourselves out for so long it was too much, when were finally ready to face how we felt. There was too much at stake, too much to risk so at the first sign of trouble, he was terrified for me and completely shut down. I think if we'd come around sooner, it wouldn't have been so much on the line: pieces of our hearts instead of all of them." Now she's the one with the faraway gaze, watching Barry smack talk Oliver while the latter simply shook his head and scowled in a way that held no heat and was fonder then he would have wanted it to seem. "Now we're just sitting here, waiting for something we might not ever have but we can't really move on from it either." Not for lack of trying on her part, but when you love someone, you love them and Oliver Queen is not a man she can have or get over. She doesn't wish that life on anyone.

Caitlin knows they're both too smart to try and play dumb, so she just listens to Felicity, a frown tugging across her lips as she absently taps at her condensation beaded glass. She's not entirely sure she's ready to face all these deepening feelings, or that she wants to, but the other woman is right. If she doesn't stop avoiding them, she might never be able to escape or embrace them and she can't tell if that thought terrifies or soothes her.

"I never expected any of this. When Ronnie died I decided that was it: I'd throw myself into my work, try and make the best of a world I'd helped break. I didn't think anyone would ever make me feel much of anything again: hope, trust, safety, happiness, love." Caitlin trails off, bites her lip and sighs. "I didn't expect I'd meet someone who could change any of that, let alone all of it."

Felicity nods, she gets it, gets how everything they do tears their lives upside down in so many more ways than the obvious. She'd like to say more, wants them to analyze this conversation to a solution the way she would a line of code or Caitlin would a DNA sample, but suddenly they're being summoned. Roy, who has been absolutely losing his ass at pool, is demanding they play teams and Barry's calling over to see if they need new drinks, which prompts everyone else to throw out their orders as well.

Both women laugh and move to join their team (because at moments like this, they're one team even if it's made up of two pieces), Caitlin offering to help Barry with the glasses. As she snags Felicity's empty wine glass and downs the last of her own, the other smiles softly at her. "Maybe you're not quite there yet, but you really should talk to him sometime." Caitlin nods and reflexively returns Barry's beaming smile as he grabs the glassware from her, settling it at the bar and immediately asking if she's got any advice on how to kick Oliver's ass in their next round of darts. "He might just surprise you," Felicity mutters to no one with a small grin.

* * *

><p>I don't know that the top and the rest jive, but I really like the idea of Felicity playing big sister to Caitlin about Barry. But I think it'd be sometime thrown into the future, when their friendship is at this place where they're either platonic best-friend soul mates or they're going to end up completely in love. I might come back to this idea and do some different takes at some point.<p>

Also, big shout outs to EnlacedMelody and DylanOhbrian on AO3, who's fics (What the Heart Wants) & (where we fit (like puzzle pieces)) completely inspired this. Both have these little Felicity noticing something moments that made me want to write this, so check them out :)

Suggestions and ideas are always appreciated, I am working on some prompts I've been given, should definitely be able to wrap them up over the holiday season with some time off from work.

Take Care & Best Wishes,

A.O.R.


	6. what's in a name

What's in a Name

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><p>At first he only does it quietly, when his voice has gone soft and his eyes are searching and his tone could be wounded, but it's wounded for her. He'll break a still room with the syllable and in the dissipating silence her walls shatter. She wishes she could hate him for it, but there's no denying that the stuttering drag of her heart in those moments is a precise counterpoint to hate.<p>

So she'll bury whatever annoyance is desperate to crawl out of her skin and instead raise her gaze to his, letting the green invade her darkest pieces with their endless promises of light and life; hope and concern. Her lips will drag themselves upwards like a drowning man for the beach and she'll step a measured pace forward, closer but not too close, edging herself into his inevitable gravity.

Whatever words follow the first one scarcely matter; he says everything he needs to in that single, soul stealing beat.

* * *

><p>Later he'll say it playfully, the cadence of that forceful exhale high and heedless, his eyes dancing with mirth and merriment. There might be a challenge skirting the edge of it, or just laughter, or a careless mix of the two, but it never really matters. He'll call it out loud and unassuming, eager to pull her into whatever orbit he's circling, as if sheer force of his beaming radiance were enough to claim her unwavering attention.<p>

And of course it is, and damn him he doesn't even really know it, but certainly he must sense it under the layers of pretense they put up for the rest of the world. No matter how she might huff and haw, drag her simple black heels in the metaphorical dirt, she'll pick up the challenge and meet him toe for toe. Her grin an immediate response to his siren's call: a question without a question in those four little letters that she is only too happy to answer.

It never matters what situation invokes the reaction, she'll toss her hat into the flames besides his any day.

* * *

><p>Eventually he'll say it reverently, the briefest exclamation of wonderment and prayer, his eyes wide with a wonder she can't imagine she could twice deserve and certainly never from him. In a world wrung with sound and sensation, with heaving respiration and inhalation, it'll break the chaos into two defining halves: a before and an after and nothing is ever the same. And she'll love him all the more for the way it sounds like a promise on his tongue.<p>

In the heartbeats that follow, pounding out a tandem to his heavy epithets, she'll give back as fully as he gives: all that light and life; hope and concern. She'll abandon whatever frail excuses she once clung to and throw herself overboard into everything he's offering in that single, clear pronunciation: all the devotion and challenge and sweet, sweet victory that rolls off his tongue and spills from his heart.

All it takes is the brief pull of his diaphragm and air over his vocal cords and she leaps into his orbit, glad for the gravity she's too long been bereft of.

* * *

><p>There are so many things they give one another, but the first thing she gives is something he takes himself, a nickname: Cait.<p>

(It's okay though because in a once upon a time to come, he'll give his own name back to her and they'll have never needed to settle this score but it will still be oh so satisfying.)

* * *

><p>Wrote this one after a very long day of teaching and selling tickets for basketball. I got stuck on the idea of Barry calling her Cait when he was worried. Which then turned into him calling her Cait when he was feeling playful and then of course, in the heat of the moment their first time together. I think nicknames from people you care about (in any capacity) just have this way of catching you up in a moment and a feeling, which is where this comes from.<p>

Gonna be working on some prompts I received here and on tumblr. Hope to get to a few yet this weekend but I will definitely be writing over my holiday break, since I'll have some actual free time, rather than just writing when I should be sleeping.

All feedback and prompts are appreciated!

Thanks & Best Wishes,

A.O.R.


	7. holiday traditions

holiday traditions

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><p>It's three days to Christmas and she's not sure if it's the sudden blizzard that's picked up in the last two hours, the music filling her apartment or the sight of Barry Allen covered in an obscene amount of flour: but she feels engulfed in holiday spirit in a way she hasn't been for the last two years. Caitlin bursts into a peal of laughter and he doesn't hesitate to join her, grinning like it's some sort of victory and looking not the least bit contrite for the mess he's caused. "This is probably where an "I told you super speed wouldn't be good for mixing cookie dough" should be expected, right?"<p>

Her eyes roll but there's no heat in it, save the warmth of her amusement. The mess doesn't really matter (which is not a sentiment she could imagine holding a few years ago, before messy became a primary adjective in her life). "I think making you clean up after we finish will probably be punishment enough," she offers instead, pointedly looking around at her kitchen. It'll only taken him seconds to clean it anyway.

His grin is positively cheeky now, but it only makes her smile wider in response, even as she pulls the bowl he'd been stirring across the counter to empty its contents into the trash. "This time, I'll stir and you can measure instead." He nods, grabbing the recipe again and beginning to re-sort the ingredients they had only finished using minutes ago.

"Sounds like a plan Caitlin." And just like that, he's back to business, prepping ingredients while she re-washes the stainless steel mixing bowls for round two.

They work in a flour soaked, amiable silence that is perfectly comfortable but, as always, doesn't last long. (They've gotten pretty good at all of this in the last year and a half: they make a good team even when surrounded by chaos). "Thanks, by the way," because Barry is never that good at silence, even when it's an easy one. He likes to fill the air with reassurances, and he's good at them. All the same, the thank you seems out of place, judging by the way her eyebrows pull down and her nose scrunches up in a slight and silent question. "I've never made my mom's cookies by myself before—she always made a big deal out of Christmas and this is one of those traditions I've tried to keep going."

What he doesn't say is that he and Iris usually make them together but his best friend is out of town until Christmas Eve for work and he could neither bring himself to not make them or to make them alone. But he doesn't need to say it: she gets it, would have gotten it even if she hadn't been at lunch with them both (and Cisco) earlier in the week when they'd found out Iris was being called out of town to cover a story. She'd seen the sinking expression he had worked so hard to quell, filling it over with enthusiasm for his best friend's big news: it was a big opportunity and he had shown nothing but happiness for Iris.

But she had seen the flicker and had pulled Iris aside later to ask about it and when the other woman had explained their holiday tradition, Caitlin had been happy to offer her help. It was, after all, what she and Barry did for one another: fill in the hard spaces their pasts left gaping open, be the person the other needed them to be to keep moving forward. Sometimes she worried they overstepped in each other's lives, but Iris pulling her into a hug and thanking her reassured her that it wasn't the case: as had Barry's grin later that night when she'd asked if he wanted to help her make dessert for the annual West family Christmas party, claiming that she had promised Iris she'd make sure everything was ready when she got back.

"Of course Barry," she says after a moment, the memories flicking to the back of her mind as quickly as they'd come to the front. "That's what friends are for." They start mixing ingredients again, talking about recent meta-human encounters, Cisco's latest infatuation and childhood memories and in what seems like no time at all, she has a kitchen filled with perfect, fluffy cut outs that taste better than anything she thinks she's ever eaten. She whips up a batch of her own homemade, eggnog frosting and laughs at Barry's enthusiastic grin when he melds the two traditions together and insists that they'll have to decorate all the cookies tomorrow night, when they have more time.

They're in the middle of cleaning up—together, despite her earlier teasing—when Caitlin bumps his shoulder suddenly, a friendly smile warming her expression. "Thanks for sharing your Christmas tradition with me, I haven't had much of those lately."

He just grins, letting his shoulder bump back against hers as they place stacks of cookies into well worn holiday tins, feeling for all the world like one of his favorite traditions has only gotten better, rather than worse. "That's what friends are for."

* * *

><p>Happy Christmas Snowbarry shippers-one of my gifts to you! The others will be belated between now &amp; New Years as I get time between festivities.<p>

Snowbarry friendship fic, with some Iris/Caitlin friendship as well, set another year into the future. I really like the idea of Caitlin and Barry helping one another move forward and jumping in when help is needed, and I like Iris being a part of that as well. I also kind of want to make this a piece of a bigger story, like them continuing this tradition forward, with some eventual relationshippy business (& kids!), so we'll see what I manage over the holidays.

To those that have sent and suggested prompts, I have a list! And a whole holiday break ahead of me, after family celebrations, to actually work on writing them. I have not forgotten, I promise!

Take Care, Best Wishes & Happy Holidays!

A.O.R.


	8. holding patterns

holding patterns

* * *

><p>It's been a slow week, meta-human wise and Barry can't bring himself to be disappointed. As much as he loves catching the bad guys and helping people, it's nice to have a break now and then. Over the last year he's come to enjoy quiet nights with the team when the most pressing problem is what kind of drink to order (tonight it's microbrews at some bar Cisco's been wanting to try for weeks).<p>

The tech savy leg of their trio, however, is off shooting pool with some pretty redhead (not nearly as well as he should be, given his degree in physics but she's smiling more brightly at him with every bad joke he tells so who can blame his distraction?). Caitlin and Barry remain at the table, their conversation switching easily between assessing Cisco's flirting skills and sharing lab accident stories from their college days.

She's in the middle of a particularly animated story about electrophoresis gels when a thought filters errantly through his mind. It strikes him so sharply that his mouth is interrupting the end of her explanation before he can stop himself. "It's too bad we didn't go to school together." It's a thought he's had before, but never this intensely, never so acutely that he's felt compelled to share it aloud.

But it must catch her too, because Caitlin stops her story mid-sentence, head slanting slightly to the left, eyeing him curiously, the hint of a smile pulling at the edges of her lips. "Why's that?"

She's curious, not accusing, when she asks, suddenly shifting her weight over the table a little, eyes bright as they watch him. He knows this look, has spent the last year watching it settle over her features from across the lab. This look is full on Doctor Snow, all thirst for knowledge and earnest intrigue, desperate for deeper understanding. It's one of his favorite expressions on her (partially because it means he hasn't done anything stupid to annoy her but mostly because he knows just how that look feels).

"Would've been nice to have someone to talk science with," he answers, which is true even if it's not the whole truth. It's a partial admission, not really a lie, because it is nice, having Caitlin (& Cisco) to talk with about science. Iris has always done her best to understand but her whole hearted support is not quite the same as getting it and he'll admit sometimes it's wonderfully easy to just be able to talk with his new friends, no explanations or Cliff notes needed. (He'll feel guilty about that every time he ever thinks it, probably forever, but he knows Iris wouldn't really mind, that she cares enough—so much—that she'd just grin and be wildly happy for him).

But there's also more to it than that and it's nights like these (& really, all the others too) that make him wonder how differently it might have gone if he'd known them, known her, sooner. Would it have been Caitlin, rather than Iris, that he would have spent his teenage years pining for? Would their already easy friendship have had the room to grow to something more if it weren't so busy being stifled by her grief and his decade long infatuation? He tries not to focus on those questions, unanswerable and unchangeable as they are, but sometimes his mind gets caught up in analyzing the details despite his best efforts, scrutinizing them the way he would a crime scene in need of solving, and in those moments he just can't quite let it all go.

Caitlin is beautiful, there is absolutely no denying it, but even more than that, she is brilliant and passionate and stubborn. She fights for the things (the people, he thinks warmly, knowing he is one of them) that she believes in with a tenacity that sometimes catches his breath. She keeps him on his toes, calls him out on his bullshit but never lets him feel like he's alone in his struggles. The truth is, he's not sure he can imagine his life without her in it, by his side.

Yet for all that knowledge, for all the soul deep conviction that accompanies those thoughts, he's still in love with Iris and her heart still belongs to Ronnie. They're still stuck in the same holding patterns and he's not sure they'll ever escape (even if escape might be the very best thing for them, for all of them).

"I know what you mean," because she always does, always seems to understand whatever thoughts bounce through his mind. (He wonders if these more recent thoughts would be the exception or if they too would follow the rule they've developed). "I didn't have too many close friends in high school, definitely no one who understood me."

He can hear the unspoken 'like you do' linger in the silence that follows, a tiny piece of traction that adds to all the rest, still so insignificant to their insurmountable realities. Maybe someday they'll be enough to gain some ground on whatever's stirring between the, enough to allow them to escape their pasts.

For now they remain content with shared smiles and understandings. They order another beer and lose themselves in laughter at Cisco's stunned face when he comes back to the table with a fresh drink and a date for Friday night.

—

(It takes four more years of tiny pieces but eventually Barry answers all those questions—turns out it doesn't matter the path or the obstacles, he's pretty sure they were always going to get there and, honestly, it's certainly worth the wait.)

* * *

><p>So I couldn't resist ending on a slightly more positive note because this one tugged on my heartstrings for the week I was writing it down in my notebook. All the same, this fic basically outlines how I feel about this pair: they could be great together, maybe would have been, if they'd known each other before they'd fallen in love with other people. As they stand now, there's really no chance for them, but maybe, if they can find a way past or through their current love interests, they could really make it.<p>

Also, I'd like to say a big thank you to everyone who's reviewed so far. One of my break goals is to get caught up on replying to those but a shout out especially to Airsay & Littlemermaid1990, both of whom are wonderfully supportive & whose support is very much appreciated!

Thoughts? Feedback is appreciated as always!

Take Care & Best Wishes,

A.O.R.


	9. for the love of horses

for the love of horses

* * *

><p>At just four years old, Mikaela Allen falls in love with the stuffed pony her Auntie Iris buys for her birthday. She drags the brown on white animal (which she names Snowflake, in honor of the storm that's barely fading outside) everywhere and tells anyone who will listen all about how Auntie Iris and Uncle Eddie are going to take her horseback riding in the summer. At night she sleeps only when mommy reads her a bedtime story, daddy tucks her in and both have given both her and Snowflake kisses goodnight.<p>

Barry and Caitlin just smile and comply and add _Black Beauty_, _Misty_ and _the Horse Diaries_ to her list of bedtime stories. They figure the infatuation will wear off the way so many other things seem to (a stark and scary reminder that their little girl will not stay little long). For now it's easy and fun to indulge in her new love.

When Christmas comes that year, Santa brings Snowflake a new friend (Speckles), more horse books and even a few horse movies (though it's Uncle Cisco who gives her _Spirit_, which she will eventually watch so often they'll have to buy a new copy). That night, while Kella sleeps at Grandpa Joe's (after her story and being tucked in and kisses for her, Snowflake and Speckles), Barry and Caitlin run home to prepare her present from them—a horse themed bedroom complete with a small herd of not quite life sized horses on the wall (all of which get their very own names as soon as she sees them the next afternoon).

* * *

><p>Kella's love of horses doesn't fade with time. When she starts school that fall she picks notebooks and folders and pencils covered in horses of all different colors, tucking them excitedly into her purple backpack. Snowflake and Speckles take turns accompanying her to school each day and both sit on the table as she does her homework before dinner each night. Her favorite movie is still Spirit and the best part about school is that she gets to check out any book in the library she wants and so now each night she reads the bedtime story to her parents, and they discover the extensive collection of horse related books housed at Central City elementary. (Mommy sings a lullaby instead of reading but Daddy still tucks her in and still no one can sleep without the usual round of bedtime kisses).<p>

In first grade she comes home from career day practically buzzing (Caitlin is adamant she gets her energy from her father—which Joe won't let Barry argue). She proudly (and dramatically—a trait she gets entirely from her mother, Barry often claims) says that she knows exactly what she wants to be when she grows up: a horse doctor. Caitlin just beams and teachers her the word veterinarian as they begin to research for her project. Caitlin makes dinner when Barry gets home so that Kella can tell her daddy all the things they've learned so far (like how she'll go to a school just like mommy did, except for animals not people, and how when she's older mommy will teach her how to give shots and check ups and how daddy will be a great pretend horse to practice on).

It continues to be basically all she talks about for weeks as she works on her career report. She spends hours practicing and perfecting her poster and information and trying to decide what she should wear for her big presentation. When her parents give Kella her very own lab coat to wear (with Doctor Allen carefully stitched above the pocket where one of Caitlin's stethoscopes is tucked), she throws her little arms around them both in an extra tight hug, saying thank you at a hundred miles an hour. She tries it on a half dozen times before bed and picks her very favorite dress to wear with it and takes twice as long to fall asleep as usual.

The next day Caitlin cries as they watch her give her presentation at school and Barry takes dozens of pictures with his work camera, including a nice family photo that they use for their Christmas card next year (when Kella gets her very own doctor bag and tools).

* * *

><p>As the years pass, everything changes and everything remains the same. Snowflake and Speckles no longer take turns accompanying Kella to school every day but they remain on her bed, awaiting her return each night. She doesn't ask to be tucked in anymore but she gives both her parents a kiss and hug before she heads up to bed to read (first the <em>Saddle Club<em> and then _The Horse Whisperer_ and _the Eighty Dollar Champion_) and go to sleep. At thirteen she asks to paint her bedroom with her best friend for her birthday party (three gold walls and one plum) but she also asks if she can take riding lessons at the local stable if she promises to help work them off by doing chores there.

She starts high school and loves science and English and boys and nearly gives Barry a heart attack when she asks to go to her first school dance. She fends off heartbreaks on horseback, studies before dinner each night and graduates at the top of her class before attending Central City University. Four years later when she's graduating with a degree in biology and celebrating her admittance into vet school, she groans in embarrassment (and love) when Caitlin pulls out a cake topped with a picture from her first grade career day presentation. (But she hugs her parents tightly when she opens her gift a little later: three new lab coats that have Doctor Allen stitched in plum with a stethoscope in the pocket to match).

And when she leaves for school one month later, they all cry as she packs Snowflake and Speckles, but not before Barry and Caitlin give all three kisses goodbye.

* * *

><p>My students were watching Spirit: Stallion of the Cimarron last week and this just started because we need some Snowbarry kidfamily tics and who doesn't love little girls who love horses?

I know it gets kinda sad at the end but I liked the idea of Kella (Mikaela) growing up and becoming a vet because she loves science as much as her parents, just a different area of it. I will probably most definitely return to Kella and family fics in the future, there might be a little brother in there somewhere too, but for this is just worked better to just have her.

Thoughts? Also, I had -no idea- what to call this one so if anyone has any better title ideas, please share! Thanks all-happy New Year's Eve (or New Year, depending on your location!)


	10. my heart to yours, one stitch at a time

my heart to yours, one stitch at a time

* * *

><p>You would think someone as quick as The Flash would learn to avoid shattered glass, but here he is, covered in a network of thin (and some not so thin) lacerations, slowly bleeding all over. They sting, to be sure, but Barry is satisfied that they're worth it, given that Cisco and Dr. Wells are currently placing their latest meta human adversary behind bars. Of course, that feeling of satisfaction for a job well done is somewhat marred by the frown coloring Caitlin's expression as she works to remove the glass fragments embedded in his wounds before they heal over. Once upon a time he would have thought that look meant she was furious with his stupidity—now he knows better. Now he recognizes that that downward tug of her lips, the furrow of her brow, the way her eyes darken and her breath pulls sharply are tells for an entirely different set of emotions (though, he supposes, there's probably a little fury in the mix as well). Mostly though, she is worried, or was, and now she's mostly relieved, maybe a little upset. (She hates the risks he takes sometimes, the low regard he places on his own well being).<p>

"Hey," he calls out quietly, catching her attention and her wrist with the upturn of his hand. He ignores the sting of the antiseptic now abandoned and uneven on his arm as her nose wrinkles in an unasked question. "Sorry about all this—I was trying to be careful." Briefly he wars with how to tone the words, settling for ending them in a way that is both playful and contrite, hoping to draw her into an easier mood.

He does pull a smile, despite what he knows is her very best effort to remain stern and impassive. (Making Caitlin Snow smile in spite of herself is practically a second superpower as far as Barry Allen is concerned and some days it gives him as much a rush as super speed).

"I know," she sighs, though the smile lingers a moment longer. Caitlin abandons his grasp to pick up her forceps and alcohol pads again, returning to scanning his badly cut arms for stray glass, occasionally pausing her search to extract one such piece. "That face wasn't so much about getting hurt as worrying some of these more minor wounds will heal with glass still in them." But her final checks seem to alleviate that worry because she trades the forceps for a suture kit and taps his left wrist.

He holds out that arm, bending the elbow awkwardly to allow her access to the deeper cut that's still bleeding slightly and gaping open just above his brachioradialis. "I guess super healing isn't all it's cracked up to be."

She rolls her eyes lightly, gives a hum of agreement and sets to the task of stitching the wound, fingers pressing softly around the open skin as she considers how best to mend it together. It takes her only a few seconds to come to a decision—proof of practice, he supposes, given how commonplace this situation has become, despite her initial protests to patching him up. A moment later she's sliding on a topical analgesic (that will only dull the first few stitches but she feels better pretending and he's willing to give her that reassurance) and beginning a fresh set of neat, precise, perfect sutures.

Sometimes he wonders why she bothers to stitch him up at all. Even the worst wounds will heal in a few hours, prompting her to cut out the stitches she is so painstakingly placing. He's sure they'd heal relatively well without the assistance (or with the aid of something quicker and easier, like tape or glue) and she knows it too, better than him, yet every time he's hurt they find themselves in this position and she never cuts corners with an easier fix.

He supposes part of that is just in her nature: Caitlin is a scientist and a doctor, she's not one to just leave things on the wayside or do them halfway. If there's a way to be involved, to help, then she feels compelled to do so, especially when helping is in her specific realm of expertise. The evidence is in the precise, practiced way she lays every stitch, and goes through every safety protocol as she works. It's also in the binders of notes he knows she takes each time he's injured or does something new, tracking and hypothesizing (and worrying) in turn.

At the same time, he can't help but think it's more than the mere calling of a doctor or a scientist. That the effort and care speak to something that Caitlin can't help or deny (and neither can he): that they both just need these particular motions to roll through, these moments of reassurance, to help them get through their day to day. Because whatever else they are, they are a reminder, sharp and sure, that they've both survived again. That while life and circumstance have thrown them another loop, they've made it to the other side—maybe scared, maybe scarred but still breathing and beating and there for each other.

He knows it certainly rings true for him. In those moments when the speed and adrenaline have worn off, it's the calm, steady brush of Caitlin's fingers, the stinging scent of antiseptic and the click of her heels on the tile that center him home. Like Pavlov's dog, he's come to respond to these constants—they draw full air into his lungs, slow his heart and bring his mind from survival (and victory) to the here and now. He tries not to be dramatic, but all the same, he can't imagine the mess he'd be without those constants. Granted, it took him a while to realize how important these moments are but that revelation is why he gave up fighting them: now she's the first person he looks for when all is said and done, gladly submitting to her fussing with nothing more than a fond smile and an apology that is equally unnecessary, unneeded and untrue (because they both know it'll just happen again anyway).

He can't be certain but he can certainly hope that she feels the same way, that she draws the same comfort from the familiarity of the scene. (If she doesn't then she is the most patient woman in the world—and for all her fine qualities, he knows that isn't really one of them).

Still, he's sure he can't be entirely imagining the changes that fall over her when he walks back into the lab and immediately heads to the med chair: the way the tension seems to fall away from the planes of her fave even as her eyes are dragging over him, quick and assessing. He's sure that the steely, clinical, resigned look softens each time he smiles and offers up some wayward excuse or explanation. He does know, without a doubt, that it never fails to earn an answering smile, no matter how slight. In rare moments, when he's feeling particularly sure of himself and the world (and when he's feeling particularly calmed by the soft brush of her touch, the light scent of her perfume, the even tempo of her breathing), he would swear that her own body slows as she works. He's almost sure sometimes that he can sense it, as her examination stretches: that her touch gentles, her breathing eases and perhaps even her heartbeat steadies as she comes more and more to grips with the knowledge that his injuries are light and not lingering.

Of course, he might be imagining it, perhaps it is just Caitlin living entirely in her skin of doctor and scientist, but he certainly hopes he isn't.

* * *

><p>(He lived too long in a one sided dance, he wants a partner the next time around and with every grounding brush of her skin against his, with every tug of nylon string, he wants more and more for that partner to be her).<p>

* * *

><p>I'm torn between feeling the end was rushed and thinking there was no better way to end it—thoughts?<p>

Happy New Year's my snowbarry friends—this was the last fic I posted on tumblr (chasingblue57 there) in 2014 and now the first I've posted here in 2015, but there are plenty more where this came from in the works.

This little guy is dedicated to snowbarrified on tumblr, who is the sweetest of the sweet—thanks for being so positively lovely!

Thoughts, suggestions and prompts always welcome. I've got a list of them I'm working on right now.

Thanks, take care & best wishes!

A.O.R.


	11. tuesday morning coffee

Tuesday Morning Coffee

* * *

><p>In the years that stretch between those first months and now, she's gotten much better at sensing his arrival (or perhaps just better at estimating his tardiness)—they all have. Sometimes, when things are slow, she and Cisco place lunch bets on when he'll show up at the lab. (Caitlin hasn't bought too many lunches lately; thankfully Cisco's endless optimism keeps him playing despite his losses).<p>

It's a Tuesday morning and he's seven minutes later then he said he'd be on the phone and she's already watching the door when his shoe edges into view. He barely makes it two feet into the lab, two coffees in hand, before Caitlin's brow creases and her smile sags towards her shoes: something's wrong.

The coffee in Barry's right hand (his) is two sizes bigger than the one in his left (hers), which makes it three sizes bigger than usual. The bottoms of his sneakers drag against the tile, slow and lethargic, his toes scuffing at the pristine surface. He's still wearing a smile, mouth parted to greet her, but it's not as wide as it typically is and doesn't even reach his eyes. His hair, which has been badly in need of a cut for a month now, is a little bit everywhere and there's a thin layer of stubble dancing across the line of his jaw, spilling down his neck and up his chin and lip. He looks haggard but when he catches the concern in her expression, his eyes do warm a little.

Caitlin pulls herself to her feet and lets him come to her without comment, taking both cups from his hands and setting them down as soon as he's near enough. Her gaze briefly lingers across the planes of his face before she steps forward to envelope him in the hug he clearly needs.

Barry sags into the embrace, burying his face in her hair and breathing deeply. His arms are wrapped tight around her, tugging her closer even as she burrows against his neck. They remain tangled together a long time, the tension slowly draining from his grip until eventually he pulls away with a "thank you" that Caitlin playfully rolls her eyes at. The grin that answers is a little closer to his usual expression (she breathes a silent sigh of relief).

"Rough night at work?" Caitlin finally asks once they're settled across from each other at the lab table, coffees back in hand. He'd been called away from the lab the evening before to work a case with Joe and Eddie. When he hadn't called them after an hour, the STAR labs team had decided it must be an ordinary, non meta-human crime and headed home.

"Whole family died," Barry sighs around the mouth of his cup, taking a long drink before starting again. "Mom, dad and three kids between eight and fifteen. Looks like a botched burglary—I was processing all night…still should be, but Joe sent me to the lab to get samples running and then go get some food and sleep."

And Barry being Barry (someone who carried every burden personally, as if he were solely responsible for the weight) had instead gotten coffee and come straight here. "You should get some rest Barry, you can't help those people without taking care of yourself." (It's a constant struggle between them, but one she's gotten much better at winning in recent months).

"I know, I'm planning to but I promised you coffee and I wanted to deliver." The bright, boyish grin chases away most of the lingering heaviness she knows is going to eat at him until this case is solved. It's not much, but she's glad for the temporary distraction, even if she also feels a bit guilty that he's currently forgoing sleep for her and their Tuesday morning tradition. (She'd feel worse if she didn't suspect that it was more her company he'd been craving then the caffeine).

"My hero," Caitlin tells him, taking another appreciative sip of her favorite spiced chai before letting her free hand lift and cross the space between him. Smiling affectionately, she drags the tips of her fingers across the rough stubble his long night has left on his face. It's rare to see this look on him but, she has to admit, that when combined with his too-long locks, the scruff gives him a roguishly handsome appearance. She's about to tell him as much when Barry leans into the touch, nestling his jaw against the palm of his hand and soaking up the warmth of her skin.

"I need to shave," he mumbles, his eyes heavy lidded with the exhaustion she knows he's trying to stave off.

She leans across the counter, pressing up on her toes awkwardly for a little extra height, to place a tender kiss across the whiskers on the opposite side of his jaw. "I kind of like it."

Momentarily distracted, as she'd hoped, Barry's eyes snap back open, brow quirked. "Oh really?"

Caitlin laughs, full and light and warm, standing up and moving around the table while keeping his face cradled in one hand. "Yes really," she replies, pulling him up and guiding him over to the (surprisingly comfortable) couch they have along the lounge area. With a few careful tugs and gestures, she's sitting with Barry's head atop her thigh, running her fingers alternatively along his scruffy face and through his shaggy hair. "Get some rest, Barry. I'll wake you up in a few hours so you can get back to work."

He snuggles in closer, fights off his impending sleep long enough to mutter a sleepy, "love you," and is out.

Smiling, Caitlin wraps them up in the throw from the back of the couch and, even though he can't hear her, replies back: "love you too".

* * *

><p>An established relationship fic, because we don't have enough of those!<p>

Inspired by Grant's appearance in one of the Glee Project clips on his IMDB page. Major props and thanks to geodude96 on tumblr for the name and ttinycourageous for the alternative title of 'safe here in my arms'.

Next few fics will feature some babies! One's an established Snowbarry, the other contains some Olicity. They're both part of the continuity that includes 'For the Love of Horses', any preference on which comes out first?


	12. godmother

Godmother

* * *

><p>They take the overnight train to Starling City after they get Diggle's text. Cisco remains behind with Dr. Wells to monitor for meta-human threats, better safe than sorry, and Iris makes them promise to send pictures as soon as they can (with baby Joe still sick, she's had to change her plans to go with). Caitlin reassures her they will and promises videos as well, before grabbing her already packed bag and meeting Barry in her living room (she's sure he's been waiting throughout the entirely of the phone call, practically vibrating with excitement).<p>

He reaches for her bag, more to tame his nervous energy then chivalry (he knows better than most that Caitlin doesn't need it). "I take it Iris doesn't trust me to take pictures?" he teases. He'd popped over by the Thawne's on his way to her apartment, only to be given the same news Iris had called to share with Caitlin.

"I think she's just disappointed she's not coming and wants to cover all her bases," is the reply she gives as she shrugs on her coat and they move to leave. "But it could have something to do with the fact that you cried so much when Joey was born that she doesn't think you'll be able to manage." It had only been a few tears, she knows, but she can never resist giving him a hard time about it-she supposes she'd cry too, if her best friend gave birth and named her godparent.

"Funny Cait," always mature, he sticks his tongue out and grins.

They continue to chat and banter though the short walk to the train station, Barry still pulling both their bags along. Hands free, Caitlin pays for their tickets and rolls her eyes at his protests while they find a free set of seats away from the main crowd.

"Thanks for taking the train Barry." They're just starting the long ride, one she knows he could easily skip, ensuring he's there with the others in the waiting room as Felicity gives birth to her and Oliver's first child.

His facial expression turns puzzled by the comment, maybe a little hurt. "You know I'd never leave you behind Caitlin," and it's teetering on the edge of a level of sincerity they've both been tiptoeing for months now. In the years that have passed since they met, since he became the Flash, since Ronnie came back and Firestorm left, since Barry's confession to Iris and her eventual marriage to Eddie, since the birth of little Joseph Edward Thawne, since everything that has happened between those moments, they've been moving closer and closer into one another's gravity. Sometimes he thinks they're inevitable, sometimes he's terrified they aren't.

Iris berates Barry constantly about the situation, the way a lifelong friend who's tired of seeing their friend alone will do ("You love her Barry, you need to man up and do something about it" "She's everything you want and deserve, and you could be that for her, if you'd just tell her how you feel.") He's just so afraid of screwing this up, of losing the forever he's sure they could have, that he ignores her advice and they remain stagnant.

Before she can say a word in reply, Barry barrels on, covering the intensity of the comment: "besides, I'm okay with missing the messy part."

She laughs to hide the inkling of disappointment that cascades over her insides. (Iris spends plenty of time working Caitlin's side of the story too, enough that is makes her hopeful every time he says something like that, and horribly disappointed each time he covers it with something else). "How on earth can you process crime scenes, yet find babies being born disgusting, is beyond me Barry."

They lose themselves in light conversation and speculation about whether baby Queen will be a boy or a girl and what their name will be. Eventually, the long train ride gets to them and they fall asleep, side by side (and if Caitlin's head finds itself against Barry's shoulder well, he's not one to be bothered-not all saving the day involves beating bad guys.)

* * *

><p>By the time they make it to Starling City, it's mid-morning and both their phones have been filled with "it's a girl!" messages from the various members of Team Arrow for the last hour. A follow up call from a very sleepy Diggle (who, like the others, had waited at the hospital all night) assures them the moment they step off the train that both mother and daughter are doing well and they'll be ready to meet their family from Central City as soon as they both get cleaned up.<p>

Caitlin smiles softly into the phone, laughing at the way Barry presses close to hear without having to wait. "A little girl," she breathes as she hangs up, feeling light and hopeful. It's wonderful to live in a world filled with reassurances that everything works out, that those who deserve happiness get it.

"She's going to have Oliver wrapped around her finger," Barry jokes, smiling down at Caitlin, his chest tight and warm at the sound of her voice and the news they've been given. Oliver had once told him that guys like them did not get the girl-it gives him overwhelming hope to know that his friend was wrong in this case (now if only he can prove it for himself). "Since it sounds like we need to stall a little, breakfast?"

He doesn't wait for her reply (knows too well how poorly Caitlin functions in the morning without at least a cup of coffee), instead linking his arms with hers and pulling them both in the direction of a coffee shop down the road.

* * *

><p>An hour later, full of coffee and muffins, they walk into the hospital, suitcases still in tow. Roy's there to greet them, reaching for their luggage as soon as he breaks from the hug (Caitlin) and handshake (Barry) they greet him with. "I'll drop these back at their place while you go up. They have to stay until tomorrow, just for monitoring, but Oliver said he'd give you guys his keys." He waves off their protests about their luggage, "It's not a big deal, have to head there anyway. Thea's planning on decorating for their homecoming tomorrow."<p>

Because of course, Auntie Thea is going to host her niece's very first party at the absolute first opportunity. "We'll probably still be there when you get back. You know how Thea is." And they all laugh because yes, they certainly do.

Roy says his goodbyes and directs them to the right floor and room and then they head up.

The waiting room down the hall is empty when they arrive but full of signs of the long night's wait (coffee, snacks, the little rips of paper that were probably from an impatient Roy). "Everyone must be catching up on some sleep now," Caitlin mumbles, a fond smile on her face as she meets Barry's gaze. "Ready?"

He smiles, nods and they knock on the door to room 307, pushing it open when a familiar voice calls "come in".

Barry holds the door open and ushers Caitlin through, both pausing at the beautiful sight before them: Felicity in bed, looking sleepy but grinning wildly, Oliver holding a bundle of blankets and wearing an expression of awe Barry's not sure will ever entirely fade.

"You made it!" Felicity exclaims, reaching her arms out for a hug that Caitlin immediately gives her. Barry steps in next and they both pause to look over at the reason they're here.

"She's beautiful," Caitlin breathes, taking in the tiny, sleeping bundle, her little closed fists over the blanket, a wild array of blond hair sticking up every which way.

"Just like her mama," Barry adds, as totally enamored as he'd been when Joe was born.

Oliver nudges his arms out a bit, an invitation, and Caitlin moves around the bed, arms extended and carefully arranged to accept.

From the bed, looking on, Felicity is still grinning. "Meet Abigail Moira Queen. Abby, this is your Uncle Barry and your godmother Caitlin."

At the introduction, Caitlin pulls her arms back a bit, surprised. "Godmother?"

Oliver nods, solemn but smiling. "If that's alright with you? We decided a few months ago but wanted to wait until she was born to make it official."

Barry resists to the urge to tease Caitlin about the tears pooling in the corners of her eyes (though he stores it away for later), and instead crosses the room to stand behind her, curling his arm around her waist as she allows Oliver to carefully ease his daughter into her arms. The sight of her-glassy eyed, holding little Abby, dark curls spilling over her shoulder, turning to grin up at him, nestled against his side-takes over his every sense for a long, long moment. (Enough that he, like her, totally misses Felicity snapping a picture of the scene on her phone). Barry's overcome with the knowledge that he wants this, all of this, with her. He's had this thought before, fleeting and light as the brush of the wind, but now it's a clawing, breathing, living thing inside his chest that he's not sure he'll ever shake.

It only sharpens a few minutes later when her attention turns back to him, twisting in his arms to ask if he wants a turn with Abby. He does, so they swap positions but stay tangled together, cooing over the baby until Caitlin remembers she promised Iris pictures.

"I just sent a few," Felicity interjects, smiling a bit wickedly (which Caitlin does not understand), "but I'm sure she'll want some a little closer up." So Caitlin pulls out her phone and she and Barry take turns taking pictures, eventually giving Felicity her daughter back, while Oliver tells them about the delivery.

Though she tries to hide it behind her usual boisterousness, Felicity looks exhausted so they linger only a little longer before excusing themselves to head back to the house. They're at the hospital doors, Barry's arm slung over her shoulder, when Caitlin glances up at him. "Not one word about the tears Allen," to which he laughs.

"Of course not," he promises, leaning forward and pressing a daring kiss to the side of her head. He plows forward before she can respond, "I think your goddaughter's probably going to need a little more spoiling before she gets home. Want to hit up the toy store on the way to the house?"

* * *

><p>Apparently I have babies on the brain. So I had two queued up, waiting to go and I decided that though I wrote this one second, I'd post it first because it takes place first in chronological order. So in the next couple of days, expect the other one which involves a some Snowbarry baby moments.<p>

This features in the same continuity as for the love of horses, my unfinished Snowbarry wedding fic and, I suppose potentially, Tuesday morning coffee. There'll be more fics in this universe along the way, including my next one-I quite enjoy family fics.

Feedback is always appreciated!

Thanks, take care & best wishes,

A.O.R.


	13. she takes after you

she takes after you

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><p>"I'm placing the blame for this entirely on you Barry Allen," a very uncomfortable Caitlin growls as she attempts to tug herself closer to her desk, failing spectacularly. Her stomach, heavily distended from pregnancy, doesn't allow her to hover over her keyboard quite the way she likes to and she's beyond frustrated. (All she wants to do is distract herself with work, and she can't even do that properly).<p>

For his part, Barry only smiles at the sight of her, uncommonly proud of the visible evidence of their (hopefully) soon to be born child beneath her sweater. Feeling the effects of his wife's steely scowl, however, he does offer a reply, albeit not a very well thought out one: "It did take both of us to make her Cait." He knows it's the wrong reply the second it runs out of his mouth (too quick to take back, like most things he does) but the damage is done.

"I'm not talking about her existence Barry," she huffs, more than aware of that simple, biological fact (her degrees aside, it would be pretty difficult to forget her conception, the evening of their first anniversary). "I mean the fact that our daughter hasn't even been born yet and she's already inherited your habit of being late for everything." In the wake of her comment, he has the decency to look guilty, which gives Caitlin at least a small feeling of satisfaction.

Barry knows that the last few weeks have been rough on Caitlin. She's grown increasingly uncomfortable, and thus unable to sleep through the night, as the end of her pregnancy has approached. They're as ready as they can be for the arrival of Baby Allen, (when they'd learned they were expecting, Caitlin had created a preparation timeline that even he'd been able to follow mostly to the letter) but it appears that Baby Allen is not completely ready to arrive. Caitlin's due date passed five days ago and with each passing day, she's become more agitated. He knows that while it is partially due to the discomfort of late pregnancy (swollen ankles, abnormal hormones, sore back, and so much more), mostly it's worry that has been making her so irritable.

"What if something's wrong?" She asks a moment later, the annoyance she's been channeling draining immediately away to reveal the root cause.

He's at her side immediately, pulling her out of the desk chair and into his arms. The embrace would be awkward, curled over her expanded form as he is, except they've been slowly adjusting to these changes throughout her pregnancy, just as Caitlin's body has. Adjusting with changes, making a better today and tomorrow from the unexpected, it's what they do, it's how they found each other and fell in love. It's why he knows, even when she snips out her frustrations, that they're going to be just fine, as always. It's also why he knows that their baby is going to be just fine too.

"Cait," he soothes into her hair, pressing a kiss against her crown, "nothing is wrong. The doctor has checked everything out and we already have a c-section scheduled if she waits too much longer." Still keeping his wife wrapped in his embrace, he pulls back a bit to smile down at her, his grin teasing. "Besides, what would you expect from our little girl? She's already always late like me and wonderfully stubborn like you—she's just choosing her own pace."

It draws out the small but warm laugh he'd been hoping for. Caitlin tips her head up to meet his gaze and then presses forward to place a brief kiss to his lips. "I know you're right, but I also know all the things that could go wrong and sometimes I can't help thinking about them." He gets that too, knows that with all the chaos it's taken to get them here (plenty of it bad, even if he knows the good overwhelmingly outweighs it), it's sometimes easy to get caught up in the idea that something surely will go wrong (it always seems to in other aspects of their lives). Still, he has faith that this is their exception. His mouth is just parting to reply when she beats him to it, her mood still lightened by his earlier comment. "Let's just hope this baby inherits some of our better qualities too."

A much better topic of conversation, one they've spent many quiet, contented nights wondering about over the past nine months. Relieved with the change, Barry navigates them away from the desk they're standing next to and over to the couch, carefully helping to ease her down. They cuddle up together as he pretends to contemplate a proper reply. "Like my incredible board game skills?" He settled on, cheeky and teasing.

An eye roll accompanies her laughter, and the warmth that pulls out of his chest has him amending his comment immediately in favor of something more serious. "Your laugh," he decides with a firm nod. "I hope she has your laugh Caitlin. And I hope she's brilliant like you, and passionate about the future. I hope she's just as fiercely independent and unflinchingly strong." They're all the reasons that he had fallen in love with her, all the things that grow that love on a daily basis.

Nine months ago, the tears collecting quietly in the corners of her dark eyes would have alarmed him, now he knows it's just part of the pregnancy package. Still, he hates inspiring them, even when he knows they're tears of happiness and love. Snuggling in closer, he lays one warm hand across her stomach while the other rubs gentle trails down each cheek. Caitlin catches that hand in one of hers and kisses it. "All I want is for her to be healthy and happy and to love the way you do: with her whole heart."

"That's a trait she'll get from both of us Cait." It's a trait she rarely sees in herself, but certainly one of those that had drawn him to her in the first place. It's the reason why, just over eight months ago, when they had first discovered Caitlin was pregnant (not planned but certainly not unwelcome, after some initial shock and panic), he had been able to reassure her fears, without any doubt, that she would be an amazing mother. He knows Caitlin loves with a protective ferocity that has saved his life more times than he can count and that she does, and will, love their little one the same way. It's evident in all her interactions with their respective godchildren (his godson Joe Thawne and her goddaughter Abby Queen).

"If she ever decides to meet us," Caitlin grouses a few comfortable moments of quiet thought later, eyes skittering down to Barry's hand where, she knows, he has just felt his recalcitrant daughter kick (she loves the absent, dopey smile it brings to his face each time he feels it).

"She just already knows what I try to tell you every Sunday morning when you claim we have to get out of bed: you're too comfortable." To emphasize his point, Barry nuzzles his head against her neck and shoulder.

"Mmm," she mumbles, letting herself become distracted. "Well, there's no Sunday lunch at Joe's to get to today…and since baby here doesn't want to go anywhere either, I'm more then happy with a nap."

It might, after all, be the last quiet one they have for a long time (if they're lucky).

It still sometimes amazes Barry how little things with Caitlin—like cheering her up or distracting her fears or lazy afternoon couch naps—can feel as much like saving the world as stopping evil meta humans. If he weren't feeling so suddenly sleepy, it might occur to him that it has something to do with her being his world, but he's warm and pressed close to his wife, their little girl kicking occasionally at his hand and so sleep overtakes him before any such thoughts can.

* * *

><p>Their nap is somewhat harshly, but very welcomely, ended three hours later by the beginning of Baby Allen's introduction into the world (and what Barry, surprisingly squeamish about childbirth despite his work and all his many injuries over the years, will refer to as the death of the Cozy Green Couch for a long time to come).<p>

Despite his many protests to the contrary ("I won't go too fast Caitlin, I'm not stupid. I'll just be a little quicker then the car!"), they arrive at the hospital valet parking in fairly good time, even though the contractions are coming pretty quickly. ("Leave it to your daughter," Caitlin groans between ripples of pain, "to be five days late and then try to flash herself into the world at lightning speed.") But they make it inside, get checked in and settled into a room with relatively little issue.

Caitlin is barely in labor for four hours when, in a delivery room surrounded by doctors, her parents, her Aunt Iris and Grandpa Joe (and with Uncle Cisco, Uncle Eddie and cousin Joey in the waiting room and her family from Starling still driving), Mikaela Grace Allen is born.

After she's checked over, deemed perfectly healthy and cleaned up, Iris and Joe leave to join the rest of their little family in the waiting room (Iris with a camera full of pictures to show off to her husband, son and Cisco before sending them off to Felicity to share) and give the new parents a few minutes alone while little Kella eats.

When she latches on immediately, clearly hungry, Caitlin smiles up at Barry with tired but wonderfully soft eyes and can't help but laugh. "Hungry already—she really does take after you."

* * *

><p>So here's our first introduction to Mikaela Allen from 'for the love of horses'. I actually wrote this one and posted it on tumblr before 'godmother' but wanted to post those two pieces chronologically here just for reason's sake.<p>

I have no doubt I'll come back to this world in the future, just because I love the family fics and we don't have too many of them. I think I originally mentioned somewhere that Kella would have a little brother but looking at some old pieces of fic I started, I actually had her with a little sister and a little brother, so I imagine they'll make appearances at some point. If you have any family fic theme prompts, feel free to shoot them my way and I'll work on using them.

I've got a few other things finished and posted on tumblr that will get up here in the next week. I tend to post things to tumblr first, take a little time to get feedback there, then make changes as needed and typically add in a few things/reword a bit before posting here-just as clarification if you follow me there as well.

Thanks for all the feedback and positive thoughts guys!

Take Care & Best Wishes,

A.O.R.


	14. blind date

Blind Date

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><p>This was a tumblr prompt: captain-stydia-snowbarry asked: Hey, love your blog. I can't get enough snowbarry! Can you do one about them being set up on a blind date? Please and thank you!:)<p>

* * *

><p>Usually, he's the one running late. Okay, he is late but Iris is even more late, which is completely unusual given that Monday afternoon coffee has been a tradition they've built their schedules around since their freshmen year. His being late is habitual; her being late is an anomaly. Understandably, he's a little surprised and a little worried and is about to try calling when she bursts into the coffee shop. She doesn't even need to look to know where he's sitting (same table, same order, every Monday for the last two and a half years), just walks in and makes her way over positively beaming.<p>

Upon reaching the table, she slings off her bag and drops down, grabbing her waiting drink and launching into what he expects is the explanation of her tardiness with absolutely no preamble: "Barry Allen, I have met your soul mate." She says it with the kind of confidence Iris seems to have been born with, no room for doubt or discussion (something he has found endearing and annoying in turns as they've grown up).

It's not at all what he's expecting and the surprise causes him to stutter over a sip of coffee. His best friend only laughs and smiles all the wider. "What?"

"The TA for my Contemporary Science discussion group, the class I just got out of—she's absolutely perfect for you." Iris had known it from the moment the young woman, no older than they were but apparently already a graduate student, introduced herself. The idea had only strengthened as the two-hour discussion group had stretched out. The fifteen students, led by said teaching assistant, had immediately dived into the concepts of the week that Dr. Wells had introduced in their first lecture just two hours prior and the more she talked, carefully prodding them in the right direction, the more certain Iris had become that she had to find a way for them to meet. Anyone who could explain the minutia of modern science issues to a group of journalism majors and actually get them engaged and eager to debate was clearly the woman of Barry Allen's dreams.

Having caught his breath again, Barry just shook his head. "You said the same thing about your roommate freshmen year and now she refuses to talk to either one of us." It isn't a memory either one of them enjoy re-living, as indicated by her dismissive wave.

"That was different," she barrels on, undeterred as always. "And so is she—she's a masters student in genetic engineering at twenty-one. She finished her bachelor's degree in two years and Dr. Wells himself invited her to come here and study with him." Which was not exactly all information she had shared with the group but Iris is particularly good at multi-tasking and investigative journalism and had had a pretty productive class. Well worth it, because she knows she's gotten Barry's attention now—Dr. Wells is, after all, one of Barry's personal heroes. "And she's pretty." Iris adds as an afterthought, knowing her interest in science would actually come before her appearance in her best friend's priority list (proof that some men still have their priorities straight).

"Okay, I've got to admit, I'm curious now." Just like always, Iris knows exactly how Barry thinks. She spends a good chunk of their free hour raving about her TA, knowing she's winning him over bit by bit, before she asks about his new classes and before they know it, they're both off for their afternoon lectures. Iris is confident though that she's left her best friend at least a little bit distracted by this 'perfect woman' and so now all she needs to do is find a way to get them to meet.

* * *

><p>It takes Iris until midterms to put all the pieces into place, but she's determined it will be worth it. In that space of time, she only ever mentions her TA in the context of class, but she can tell that Barry's casual interest remains piqued. In those six weeks she puts all her investigative skills to work learning more about the grad student who coaches her cohort through the world of contemporary science issues and builds a friendly relationship with her (and if some of that learning is helped along via some well placed internet searches, well, she's just being thorough). They meet for an occasional drink, chat before class and have lunch twice. All in all, it's kind of nice, even without the ulterior motive. By the time Iris convinces her to go out for a post-midterm drink with a group of friends on Friday, she can't help but think she's made a pretty excellent friend however this semi-secret set up turns out.<p>

Just like eight weeks earlier, she arrives a little late for coffee that Monday afternoon but is wearing a smile that immediately lets him know nothing is wrong. "Hey, sorry I'm late: we got caught up on talking points for our oral exams this week." It's only a partial lie, but she's pretty sure this whole set up will go a lot better if the parties involved aren't aware that it is a set up.

He just shrugs off the apology. "No worries, I'm always late so you've probably earned a few over the years." Their free hour passes quickly, as usual, amidst a discussion of exams and papers and how good it will feel for it all to finally be over. Barry is just complaining about how messy the chemistry lab is (he works for his advisor setting up for his introductory chem courses) and how glad he'll be when the last practicum is finished up on Friday afternoon when Iris spots the perfect in.

"Speaking of Friday," she edges, draining the last of her coffee casually as they start to gather their things. "Eddie and I were going to try and get a group together for drinks at Carmine, about seven o'clock?" She words it as a question knowing that Barry will agree with the same easy-going shrug as always.

He doesn't disappoint as he shoulders his bag, not the least bit suspicious. "Sure, it'll be nice to have a night out by then."

Barry might be the brilliant double major in chemistry and criminal justice, but when it comes to his best friend, he is thankfully terrible at catching her plots and thus finds nothing out of place in her overly bright grin and cheery reply. "Perfect! I'm sure I'll see you before then but good luck with your finals in case I'm too much of a study-zombie to say so later."

Iris has to take a deep breath to avoid skipping for joy as she heads in the opposite direction for a decidedly less than exciting exam in her media studies class. But even Dr. Kent's test can't dampen her spirits over the well-executed plan she has in place.

* * *

><p>Seven o'clock on Friday night rolls around perfectly: it's an absolutely beautiful fall evening, Iris has snatched her favorite table at Carmine's and Barry is, miraculously, on time for once. She's busy shooting a text to her TA (<em>We're at the table in the back left, see you soon!) <em>as Eddie waves him over with a, "Hey Bar!"

"Hey Eddie, hey Iris," he shoots a curious look at their usual table, which seems small for the group outing Iris had described on Monday. "Who're we waiting for?"

"Some new friend of Iris's," the senior explains with a shrug, just as Iris begins waving.

"Caitlin, hey, over here!"

Barry's brow knits into a momentary look of confusion before he, like Eddie, turns to greet the newcomer—he knows that name from something, has heard Iris mention a Caitlin but can't immediately place it. As he turns, his eyes fall onto a beautiful brunette approaching and his stuttering brain jumpstarts on the sound of Iris repeating her name. Caitlin, her TA.

"Hey Iris," Caitlin greets, smiling warmly as the other woman slips out from her seat to give her a casual, quick hug. "Thanks for the invitation out, I feel like I've been locked in my office all week!"

"I'm glad you could make it," and here she steps away, motioning to the two men both standing in acknowledgement at the table. She points to Eddie first who extends a hand and wears his trademark easy smile, "this is my boyfriend Eddie," they shake across the table, "And this is my best friend Barry Allen."

Barry's hand meets hers easily, his smile stretching across his face and into his eyes. Okay, so she's absolutely as pretty as Iris had mentioned (more so, her casual comments do not do the woman standing before him—with her tumbling dark curls, warm brown eyes, and simple black dress—enough justice). "Nice to meet you Caitlin," and it's the most sincere thing he feels like he's ever said. Still a little caught by surprise, he tugs out the empty chair between himself and Iris and gestures for her to take it.

She does, drawing her hand slowly from their embrace. "Nice to meet you too," her smiling gaze lingers on Barry for a moment before it slides to the rest of the table, "both of you."

Iris sends Eddie to get the first round of drinks and once they've made it through the initial explanations and exchanges, the conversation flows easily. In fact, once Iris has mentioned Barry's major, she and Eddie become entirely unnecessary: the pair are discussing their particular fields of interest in such detail that it takes them fifteen minutes to notice that the couple hasn't returned from the bar yet.

"It's not that busy," Barry remarks, tearing his gaze from Caitlin to try and find their friends. She joins the search and, at the same time, they notice a grinning Iris and a fondly scoffing Eddie sneaking out the door. Seconds later both their phones vibrate with an identical message: _We felt a little like we were intruding so we decided to duck out. Have a great night you two :)._

They're both a bit red in the face when they look up but the embarrassment fades to laughter the moment they catch one another's gaze. "I think, Barry Allen, that we've been set up." As pretty and as brilliant as Iris had said, he can't help but think.

"Yeah," Barry replies, suddenly anxious and hoping she doesn't mind. Despite his initial doubts when Iris had first mentioned her TA all those weeks ago, he can't help but find himself agreeing with her assessment. "Sorry about that, I should have seen it coming. I'm pretty sure Iris has been plotting this since the semester started."

One hand fiddling with her nearly empty glass of red wine, Caitlin arches a brow in question. "Really? Why's that?"

Barry laughs a little nervously, downing the last of his beer. "She seems to think we're perfect for each other," his gaze tips low to observe the way the dregs of foam slide lazily down the inside curve of the pint glass, hesitant to catch her expression and the crumbling of what has so far been an excellent evening. In the last forty minutes or so, he's learned that Caitlin is clever, quick witted and absolutely passionate about science. She has a soft smile that spreads slowly across her lips and warms her laughter whenever he manages to say something that earns the sounds and he's already enjoying the challenge that is (and the victorious feeling that blooms in his chest whenever it happens).

Of course, that feeling is nothing compared to the one that flashes through his system when, rather then grab her coat at his confession, she nudges his pint glass with her wine glass, that smile still firmly fixed across her lips and the sound of her amusement coloring her words. "So far so good."

His eyes jump to hers, so hopeful she laughs in earnest as he moves to stand. "Another glass of wine then?"

"I'd like that. I want to hear more about that electrophoresis lab you started telling me about."

* * *

><p>This time it's Barry who is overly late for Monday afternoon coffee and Iris who's on time (which isn't unusual but Iris is so eager for news that it's making her crazier than it otherwise would). She waits at their usual table with their usual order, sipping at her coffee and checking her phone, grinning when he finally arrives and shooting him with her best inquisitive look the second he's in range. "So?"<p>

She hadn't heard from him all weekend, not that that was particularly unusual for post-exams. Barry slept like the dead after a week of late nights and early mornings and she's had a few deadlines for the school paper to catch up on.

"Thanks for ditching me Friday night," he means it to sound surly but he's grinning far too widely for her to call his bluff. Instead, she launches herself out of her chair and pulls him in for a hug. He relents immediately at the eager, curious look on her face. "Best blind date ever, even if I didn't know I was going on one." That part is a bit more accusatory but Iris ignores it completely.

"I told you she was perfect Barry Allen!" She spends their coffee time pestering him for the details she had known it would be unprofessional to try and get from Caitlin during class (but is totally going to get at lunch tomorrow).

She does get them, her TA flushing when she also confesses why Barry was late for coffee with her the day before. Iris isn't sure if it's the flowers, the dinner invitation or totally unprofessional kissing in her office that turns Caitlin Snow that particular shade of red but she teases Barry about it for weeks.

* * *

><p>I had a blast writing this as Iris plotting and as a college AU. I might come back to this universe sometime, it was fun.<p>

Hope you guys like it, as always, suggestions and prompts are welcome. I've got a couple of backlogged fics I'm hoping to post in the next week or so, I've been making lots of time for writing of late (aka, sleeping not nearly enough!)

Take Care & Best Wishes,

A.O.R.


	15. with this ring, I thee (fake) wed

with this ring, I thee (fake) wed, aka undercover married couple

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><p>Anonymous asked: Prompt: SnowBarry undercover married couple.<p>

* * *

><p>Despite the hours that have passed since he first put it on, the weight on his left hand is still utterly foreign—the band circling his ring finger drawing his attention in every quiet moment that crops up. Just as he's done a dozen times since he'd slipped it on, the tip of his thumb edges along the band, throwing his thoughts into momentary chaos (he snaps back to attention quickly enough, unwilling to leave either of them unprepared and her unprotected).<p>

Usually this sort of operation would fall far more under the Arrow's purview: fancy charity auction, crisp suits, shining gowns, sparkling champagne, but when Oliver Queen asks a favor (or rather Felicity Smoak asks on his behalf), he's not one to argue. The arm's dealer that Team Arrow is tracking has a particular interest in biological warfare, especially genetically altered chemical weapons, which is a little out of the realm of the Starling City team's expertise. Not willing to chance losing the man, Team Flash has been called in to assist.

Which is how he finds himself wearing a wildly expensive suit, his father's wedding band slipped around his finger, escorting the most brilliant woman in the room and pretending she's his wife. (They may be Barry Allen and Caitlin Snow to their friends waiting in the wings, but tonight they're Franklin and Rose James to the guest list and backstopping required to get them inside).

Despite the plethora of dangerous characters littering the room and being kept closely under watch both by Barry and their team outside, the evening has been fairly innocuous thus far. (So long as he doesn't count the moment where he'd nearly swallowed his own tongue when Caitlin, wearing a deep blue dress and his mother's wedding set, had appeared with Felicity to finish final pre-mission prep). It's certainly no hardship to be spending the night following in her shadow, listening to her chat animatedly about fake research, cementing their cover and working to attract the attention of their mark—the as of yet unidentified arm's dealer. Now and then, purely to keep up the pretense of a young, married couple, he convinces her onto the dance floor where they trade information and theories while wrapped close together.

They're in the midst of their fifth dance within the scope of two hours when Caitlin sighs, dropping her head against his shoulder—ostensibly to snuggle in close but really the better to not be overheard (and a little from exhaustion, if she's honest—it's not easy pretending to be someone else at every turn).

"I'm beginning to think he's not going to show up," she murmurs, the warmth of her breath bathing against his neck. He does his best to ignore the shock it sends up and down his spine, concentrating on her words themselves and moving them slowly across the dance floor in time with the music.

"Oliver's pretty sure he will," comes his reply a moment later, equally quiet as he pretends to press a kiss into her hairline, letting his fingers steer her away from a few oncoming couples with a gentle squeeze of pressure against her hips. Pulling away just a little, enough to peer teasingly down at her, Barry grins. "Unless you're already sick of me and want to go home?"

The liveliness of her laughter, quiet but bright against the contrasting roll of her eyes lets him know that she's still more then up for this mission (even if it does end up being a dud). "And deprive myself of another few hours of dancing, this dress and you following me around like a puppy, agreeing with everything I say for a change? You're not getting out of this one early, Barry."

It's a few thousand miles opposite his intentions—he's actually kind of enjoying himself. Even if it's for completely horrible reasons, it's nice to be spending an entire evening discussing science with people who not only understand everything they're talking about but who are regarding Caitlin with every ounce of the respect her brilliance deserves. He knows that sometimes she feels a little unappreciated on the team, especially when her near-genius level skills are being wasted on sewing him back together, so it's nice to give her this night. Even if this night is actually about attracting some terrorist supplying maniac.

(He supposes, if he were to think about it too closely, it's probably a good metaphor for marriage. He also supposes that if that's the connection he's getting out of all this, this is probably the closest he'll ever get to married.)

"Me, trying to get out of dancing with my lovely wife?" He scoffs, a little louder, grinning widely. "Rose, love, I wouldn't dream of it." The couple closing in on their left shake their heads fondly at his exuberance, perhaps remembering their own early years. They're quiet a few more moments while the song tapers off. "C'mon Cait," quieter now, his words a ghost along her ear, "let's find you some champagne and let you keep working on charming your way through the room."

Untangled, he takes her left hand in his right and just like he's been doing all night with his own, immediately begins to play at the band he finds on her fourth finger—an action that causes Caitlin's heart rate to tick up just slightly and the barest hint of a flush to settle against her cheekbones. They spot a likely target and, drinks in hand, Barry strikes up the conversation before turning it over to Caitlin, fiddling with her ring all the while.

* * *

><p>It's very nearly midnight, and he feels like they've spoken at length with every person at the auction, by the time their mark seems to take notice and make contact. They exchange pleasantries and, in a corner of the room, offers. The conversation ends with agreeable handshakes and the careful planting of a tracking device for Oliver. Not twenty minutes later they get the all clear and, breathing a sigh of relief, make their exits.<p>

Team Arrow is preoccupied with their end of the evening, so Barry and Caitlin decide to make the walk back to Felicity's apartment, where they're crashing for the evening—a nice way to blow off the adrenaline of a successful mission (for Caitlin at least, Barry will probably need a good run once they make it back).

"I'm not sure I like undercover," Caitlin comments a block into their trek.

Barry, once again distracted, looks up and considers the comment for a moment, his gaze slanting sideways to meter her expression. "Me neither but you were pretty great at it."

Any other woman might flush under the compliment, Caitlin isn't any other woman: she's far too confident in her own abilities, so she comments with a sincere "you too" instead.

"Helps to have a good partner," comes his quick reply, knocking his shoulder against hers. "Seriously, Cait, you were brilliant as usual back there. Definitely the easiest fake marriage I've ever been in: I didn't have to pretend to be in awe even once."

"I'm still not letting you Flash us back to Central City Barry," Caitlin deadpans with a laugh, sensing he's angling for something. He's actually not, has completely forgotten that discussion over the course of the evening's events, but the comment does make him grin nonetheless.

"Aww, come on Caitlin!" He settles for flashing them the last few blocks to Felicity's apartment, grabbing her up with both hands, their rings pressing together as she groans in only partially feigned annoyance. He watches her fix her hair on the front stairs fondly, smiling at the way the porch light catches on the diamond on her hand, the weight of own ring feeling suddenly comfortable rather than foreign for the first time all evening.

Someday.

* * *

><p>I seem to like to fixate on random details in stories-rings happened to win that honor in this story.<p>

As always, feedback is more than appreciated and I hope you enjoyed. I'm trying to decide whether I should split off into some other series or keep everything here, most specifically if I should keep a separate story for fics that tag to specific episodes. Any thoughts there?

Take care & Best Wishes,

A.O.R.


	16. in the morning light

in the morning light

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><p>Sunlight is streaming through the miniscule gaps in the blinds, falling in lined patterns against the lids of her still closed eyes when Caitlin wakes up. Warm, curled up and content, she ignores the gathering daylight, pulling up her blankets and snuggling more deeply against the mattress. She's never been one for sleeping in before but there's something about Barry's bed—with its soft, flannel sheets and heavy comforter—that are making it oh-so tempting to spend the whole day in bed. Still a little drowsy, she mentions as much to him when she notices him stirring.<p>

His laugh draws her eyes open, heavy and sleepy but warm and rumbling against her back. "And here I thought maybe it was me," he teases, trying to sound put out but missing the mark completely (totally unable to hide the happiness and amusement in his words). Knowing the game is lost, he stretches a little, lets the arm around her waist pull her closer and presses a kiss to the back of her neck.

"You certainly don't hurt," Caitlin amends, twisting around to her other side so she can take a good look at him. She catches his eyes first, as bright in the morning as ever, and the exchanged gaze drags an easy smile across her lips before she devotes a few moments to appreciating the way the rest of him is sprawled out: one bare shoulder and arm stretched over the blankets, the other still hidden and tracing absent patterns along her hip and side, where it has snuck below her tank top. The space between them, small though it is, provides a view of his torso, splattered with freckles and lean, well defined musculature that she has spent the last few months joyfully memorizing. All in all, a pretty picture to wake to: Barry Allen all covered in nothing but navy blankets and sunbeams.

(He doesn't verbalize it, but the trail of his fingers over her skin, the way his free hand lifts to carefully draw a few curls behind her ears and the slow, sleepy smile spreading across his face say it anyway: he feels exactly the same.)

Realizing they've been silent for a while, caught up in drinking each other in (amazing how they do that still, so far from the first time), Barry whispers a "good morning" and leans forward for a proper kiss.

Caitlin doesn't hesitate to meet him, letting her own fingers move to trail through his mussed up hair. When they part, she's still smiling as she trades back her own "good morning" and scoots across the distance that separates them. Eager to help as always, Barry hooks his leg around her bent knee and tugs her forward—a bit too eagerly, for they end up in a laughing tangle of limbs a second later, Caitlin landing and knocking the air out of Barry's lungs. Thankfully, he's in no hurry to rectify his mistake, tugging her even more securely atop him so that Caitlin has to prop herself on her elbows to meet his gaze.

"What was that about spending the whole day in bed?" He asks from below, surrounding by a curtain of dark curls and thoroughly enjoying the press of her weight against his body and the way the soft material of her pajama pants rubs against his bare legs.

Still laughing (and thus squirming in the most delightfully distracting way), Caitlin rolls her eyes down at him. "Barry Allen, you are incorrigible," but there's no hint of bite in the words and even if there had been, the kiss she presses to his lips to punctuate the statement would entirely negate it.

"That does not sound anything like a no," he counters, following her retreating lips, one hand burying itself into her curls to hold the kiss. His tongue sweeps against her lips and, like the best kind of habit, her mouth opens automatically to invite him in.

When they part, both a little breathless, his hand still in her hair, legs even more tangled, and chests heaving, he takes another long moment to study the woman above him. She's looking delightfully disheveled, both from the kiss and a long, deep night's sleep. He loves this look on her, relaxed and glowing in the morning light, his and no one else's (just as he knows he is hers and no one else's).

He also loves that even when she is utterly content, feeling thoroughly kissed (at least, he assumes she feels that way: he certainly does) and peaceful, she is still characteristically difficult and doesn't let him get away with anything because she replies with a very definite "It certainly wasn't a yes either" as though the kiss has not the least distracted her (well, maybe a little, her comment is a little broken by her breathless grin).

To an outsider, it might sound a little bitchy but Caitlin knows that Barry will take it for exactly what it's mean to be: a challenge.

"Oh," and he (equally breathtaking with the morning light casting shadows over his cocky, playful grin) takes the bait without hesitation. "I bet I can make it a yes."

In a flash Barry has used his speed and corresponding momentum to flip their positions: Caitlin's back hits the mattress with a puff of air and she lays laughingly sprawled beneath a very wide-awake Barry. (And if he preens a bit at catching her off guard, well, who can blame him?) "Give it your best shot."

(Eventually Barry's growing stomach does draw them from the covers, stepping into a room stretched with midday shadows but they don't stray away for too long.)

* * *

><p>Established snowberry fluff because, you know, it had to happen!<p>

Wanted to dedicate this one to princessandthelabrador on tumblr who is wonderfully sweet and always so nice and positive — thanks dear, your comments always make me smile.

Always glad for new prompts and ideas, just drop me a comment and I'll get to it as soon as I can!


	17. the weight of grief

the weight of grief

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><p>They're in the middle of a speed training exercise on the treadmill when Caitlin's phone rings. Given that Barry is hooked up to all the necessary monitors and Cisco and Dr. Wells are there, she heads back into the main lab to answer. She's especially glad she's done so when she notices it's Mr. Diggle calling (he's not exactly one to call just for a chat, so she assumes Team Arrow must be in need of some sort of assistance and Felicity is too busy to call herself).<p>

She answers brightly—for some reason, she quite likes John Diggle, far more than the relative briefness of their interactions should merit. Caitlin can't imagine what he must feel like, dropped into a world of meta-humans and vigilantes, the oldest person on his team and yet for that age and experience, still the one most out of his element. Even faced with those facts, he never lets it stop him from doing what needs to be done. He's a sincerely good person, steady and wise and she feels a sort of kindred spirit as the patient, voices of reason for their perspective groups.

The voice that greets her isn't one she expects. It's Mr. Diggle, certainly, but his tone is solemn, a little choked and wrung with grief. Caitlin knows something is horribly wrong in the space of two syllables but she's still not expecting the words that fall from his mouth; steady as ever but with a weight that presses at her heart from hundreds of miles away. ("Caitlin, Oliver's dead.")

She gasps sharply and doesn't notice how it catches the attention of the three men in the other room, just listens with a rapidly clouding face and increasingly unsteady hands as he explains what they know. She's silent long enough that Cisco and Dr. Wells turn their attention away, but Barry continues to watch her back while running. Diggle tells her briefly about the League, about Thea, about Oliver's sacrifice and the long days of waiting. She wishes they would have known, but what could they have done? They'd been preoccupied with their own villains, her more then the others, and how would they have helped? He tells her about Malcolm Merlyn, and the sword and the reality staring them in the face. Finally, he tells her about Felicity, just as she opens her mouth to ask, and whatever calm she's been holding onto absolutely shatters. She knows what it is to be Felicity, knows exactly what she's going through and what she must be feeling. Caitlin's heart breaks for a second time in so few minutes.

She's been silent most of the conversation, there's no more she can really say than she can do, but she knows there has to be something. With a heavy swallow, she finally comments as John is finishing his explanation. "We'll be there as soon as we can Mr. Diggle." It's proof of the severity of all that's happened that he, hundreds of miles away in Starling City, just agrees and says thank you. (John Diggle knows that in these situations, the only thing that anyone can do is be there and hope that sharing the grief eases the weight of it, if only for a moment).

He says good-bye and Caitlin, still in shock and hands still trembling with the news, drops her phone when she tries to end her side of the call. Barry, having watched the tension seep into her frame throughout the conversation, notices the slip and is there long before it hits the floor. In the blink of an eye, he's standing in front of her, phone in hand, and wearing the same worried expression he'd had through the length of her kidnapping.

"What's going on?" He asks, raising his free hand to grasp her shoulder soothingly.

Caitlin Snow, who had told him not to come for her when kidnapped by two madmen, who had survived being strapped to a bomb not even a week before, who had threatened said kidnappers knowing they had no problems killing her, who had done all that without a single tear, breaks down. She has no idea if she tosses herself into Barry's arms or if he draws her into them but the next thing she knows she's crying against the navy fabric of his S.T.A.R. Labs sweatshirt and the fingers of his left hand are trailing through her curls soothingly. "Hey, hey it's okay, what's up Caitlin?"

By now Cisco and Dr. Wells are lingering in the doorway, looking as worried as he feels. They shoot questioning looks across the lab but Barry's too preoccupied with trying to calm the uncharacteristically shaken woman in his arms to notice.

Drawing in a deep, clogged breath, she pulls away as far as Barry's arms will let her. Caitlin assumes he will release her but he doesn't and she's a little grateful, suspecting she'll need to catch him rather soon. She feels a little like it's just the two of them right now, the way she's drowning in unexpected grief and the way she knows he will be shortly, but she also knows it isn't and so speaks loudly enough that the news doesn't need to be repeated.

"That was John Diggle. Oliver left to fight Ra's al Ghul," she falters a bit, her gaze locked on Barry's, watching the recognition cloud in the green. This is going to destroy him. Oliver is a friend, a mentor, a hero to him and he's lost too much. They've all lost too damn much. "He left four days ago, he hasn't come back. Barry," another, briefer pause, "he's dead."

She expects him to counter, to argue, to collapse but he doesn't: he pulls her close again, shaking, and buries his face in her neck, muttering an "oh God no" that she feels, and echoes, in her soul. Caitlin's too focused on Barry to notice the color drain from the faces of the other two, to see Cisco fall down the floor and bury his head in his hands, and Dr. Wells close his eyes and sigh.

They stay like that for a long, long time: grief stitched on each of their expressions, processing something that doesn't feel like it can possibly be true. Caitlin and Barry hold each other up until eventually, with one last squeeze and a whispered 'thank you', he draws away. "I have to go to Starling City," Barry announces, Dr. Wells nods and Cisco regains his feet, silently heading for the storage locker where they keep the calorie bars—it's a long run and he'll need to stop and refuel.

"I'm going with you." They all turn to her, but nobody argues. "I'm not leaving Felicity to deal with this alone," and in the gaze she shares with Barry there is a heavily implied 'or you', which he accepts with a smile that is weary and grateful.

"You're going to need to wear the spare suit if we're going to go that far."

It takes far longer to get ready to leave for Starling City than it does to get ready to leave for a fight. Caitlin awkwardly slides into the spare Flash suit—it's not made at all for her, but thankfully she's smaller than Barry is so it will work. He flashes them back to both their homes and they fill the small, speed-resistant bag Cisco had made (with these kinds of trips in mind, if not the impetus for such a journey) with some essentials to get them through the next few days. After Barry briefly explains to Joe what's going on, they leave.

It's a long journey full of starts and stops, made longer for the emotions that dog their every move and interaction, but they know when they arrive they're exactly where they need to be.

* * *

><p>My take on the breaking of the news of Oliver's 'death' to the Central City crew with a Snowbarry theme. I kind of want to expand to them talking through their grief at a later point during their visit, but I felt it would be out of time with this fic so that will be a follow up, even though I realize this is null and void given current circumstances (I still like to think that they would have found out about all this, even if it wasn't shown).<p>

Also, love to Cisco (& Wells) who I would definitely have coming on the train after the fact but I think in those first moments, Barry and Caitlin are the ones that need to be there—Barry has more reason to be tied to Team Arrow and Caitlin would understand what Felicity is feeling more than anyone, and thus feel she needs to be there.

So, thoughts, comments and ideas are always appreciated.

Best Wishes & Take Care,

A.O.R.


	18. taking care of me

Tumblr prompt: snowbarry-jennoist asked: Hey! I was wondering if u could do a snowbarry fic about Caitlin getting drunk and Barry being by her side and maybe something between them might happen? Sorta like how she is going to in the upcoming episode. :)

* * *

><p>taking care of me<p>

* * *

><p>"Alright there champ, easy does it," Barry murmurs, coaching an incredibly unhelpful Caitlin Snow through the front entryway of her house.<p>

"Please tell me we're almost there." She can't decide if she's more tired or dizzy but either way, she's way past ready to fall into her bed. The walk home from the bar they've been drinking at since dinner time hasn't helped clear her head in the least, just made her all the more tired and Barry had refused to flash them back, worried the speed would aggravate the light headedness that's been tipping her all over the place the last hour.

Frankly, she blames Roy and Cisco. Cisco had been the one to suggest a night out after they'd caught the meta-human that had brought Team Arrow to Central City and Roy had been the one to goad the competitive Dr. Snow into shaking bar dice. She really needs to learn that any game that involves more chance than real skill is one she is never going to win. In fact, she can vaguely recall arguing that, too many hours ago, but the protest had fallen on deaf ears and the taunts had continued (which meant she had continued to shake and lose for another two hours).

At least Barry has been immensely patient all night, standing pressed behind her for balance and support at the bar (her shoulder blades anchored securely against his chest) and then helping her navigate the trip home when they'd all gone their separate ways. "You bet, just one flight of stairs, some Tylenol and your pj's between you and a nice, long sleep."

"Not too long," Caitlin protests, frowning in thought as she leans against the door, letting Barry remove the boots she's wearing. It is a testament to her level of intoxication that the feeling of his fingers trailing down her calves causes absolutely no reaction—it takes too much concentration to stay upright for anything else to register. "We have brunch tomorrow—today," she realizes with a bit of a groan, peering blearily at the clock on her living room wall. She hears the thud of her last boot on the tray and pitches herself back upright.

Two feet solidly on the ground again, she watches as Barry toes off his own sneakers, his head nodding along in agreement. Bless him, even distracted by their conversation and making sure she doesn't tip too far forward, he manages to leave his shoes where they belong. "Not until eleven though, right down by their hotel."

"Still too soon."

His laugh rumbles against her arm as Barry forgoes attempting to lead Caitlin up the stairs and instead swings her into his arms to carry her. "Let's not waste time getting you to bed then," he grins down at the expression dancing through her dark eyes: half indignant at being carried, half grateful to leave the stairs to him: tired is beginning to win out over dizzy—it's been a long few days for everyone (and she'd wisely stopped drinking a little before one so the alcohol's effects are thankfully beginning to fade).

It doesn't take too long for Barry to make it up the stairs, past the office and into Caitlin's bedroom. Between his own familiarity and the tendrils of light from the stairway, he easily reaches for the second light switch, which triggers the softer glow of the bedside lamps. There's no need for preamble (they've run this routine a time or two before) and so he deposits her gently on the bed. It takes only a few quick seconds for Barry to exchange the dress she'd put on this morning for her favorite pair of pajamas, which are neatly folded a top her hamper, ready for use.

Caitlin just murmurs a thank you and snuggles into the soft cotton. "Teeth, Tylenol and bed?" She questions absently, more running through her mental checklist than asking but Barry gives a vague sound of agreement as he riffles through the hamper anyway. Her head a little clearer with the passage of time and the relief of impending rest, Caitlin rolls her eyes and shakes her head fondly as she passes him. "Left top drawer."

After a quick journey through the medicine cabinet, she swallows down a glass of water and two little red and white pills, and begins to scrub her teeth free of the detritus of a long day at work. She can hear Barry rummaging through her bedroom, humming along to One Day More from Les Mis and it brings a slow, contented smile to her lips. Caitlin centers herself on the those background sounds, the way they mix easily with the trickle of water, the tap of her toothbrush, the pull of a make up removing wipe against her face and bring everything back into clearer focus.

By the time she's finished and ready for bed, Barry has already beaten her there, having found his own flannel pajama bottoms and favorite S.T.A.R. labs t-shirt exactly where they belong, in the top left drawer.

Smiling softly, she takes a quick glance around the room to find everything is already exactly like she likes it. Their phones are plugged in and charging, a quiet tune playing from one of them. Both sets of their clothes are stowed in the hamper (one cuff of his jeans is hanging out though because Barry will always be Barry) and there's a bottle of water from the kitchen sitting on her side of the bed. The little light on her alarm click is glowing, so it's set to go off in a few hours and give them time to get ready to meet everyone. Best of all is Barry, stretched out on the right side of her king sized mattress, smiling just as softly back at her; the covers flipped open to invite her in.

She doesn't hesitate to join him, snuggling in closer and muttering a "thanks for taking care of me tonight" as she does so.

When he replies back, "thanks for taking care of me every day" she just presses a kiss against his collar bone and lets herself drift off.

* * *

><p>So this was written before last week's episode and doesn't completely follow the request but once I got the established snowbarry part in my mind, I couldn't shake it. Posted a little out of order in my list because .Awesome asked for an established fic and I figured a little fluff was in order after 'the weight of grief'. Expect the follow up to that one next though, should be up in a day or so.<p>

As always, comments and ideas welcome. I've got a list of prompts I promise I am working through, trying to write a fic a day until the end of the month. Also, if you're a writer, we've got a Valentine's Snowbarry challenge going on over on tumblr. Just search the tag SBvalenfic and you'll find the info. I'll gladly take submissions that are on here & as well as tumblr, you can just message me the info here.


	19. lays heavy on its survivors

Follow up to chapter 17, the weight of grief.

* * *

><p>lays heavy on its survivors<p>

* * *

><p>It's a quiet moment in the chaos (and darkness) of life without Oliver—Team Flash's last night in Starling City is finally upon them, they've reached the point where they know that Central City has been too long without protection, and the four of them are taking the train home in the morning. But it's so hard to leave, to abandon their friends in this lingering uncertainty: there is no body to bury, no human form to say goodbye to, and thus the tiniest bit of hope burns in each of them, threatening to be stamped out and abandoned if they accept what seems to float in front of their faces. It's a hard path to take, acceptance, but it seems the only one left for them.<p>

They can't have a proper funeral, so instead they gather at the foundry to drink and share stories and grieve together. It's an evening that is equal parts laughter and tears, everyone assembled uncertain of which direction is appropriate to tip towards.

Eventually, the weight of the decision is too much—Barry needs a break. Moving quietly through a very absent-minded assemblage of friends, he sneaks outside the foundry, finding solace is the dismal silence of the alley beyond. He needs a walk, a slow paced pacing of the city, to clear his mind and shake off the heavy weight of grief that dodges his footprints. He wants, like so many of the others, to live in a world of happy memories, rather than sad ones but he can't with the way the latter clings at his heels and refuses to let go.

Turning up the collar of his jacket against the winter chill, he's three steps toward the entrance of the alleyway when the door behind him opens again.

"Hey," calls a tentative voice he'd recognize anywhere.

She sounds as weary and bereft as he feels: the cadence of her single syllable chases away the twinge of annoyance that has sprung up at the idea of his interrupted solitude. Painting on a smile, small but surprisingly sincere, he angles back toward her. "Hey Caitlin."

"Mind some company?" She asks, nodding her head once in the direction of the street, easily picking up on his intentions (because of course she does, she's Caitlin and somehow she's come to know almost everything about him just a few short months).

Barry considers her question for a few still-constricted beats of his heart and realizes, with a little surprise, that he actually doesn't mind. Moments ago he'd wanted nothing more than to be alone, but the idea of Caitlin's company warms away a bit of the ice that has been incasing his insides ever since she took Digg's call. "I'd like that actually," he tells her and finds that to be completely true. Time with Caitlin has a way of easing his aches—physical, mental and emotional—and he wonders in the span between his answer and her answering, likewise small but very much present, smile why he didn't think to invite her in the first place.

Already in her coat (so sure he wouldn't refuse her, or perhaps just hopeful), Caitlin strides forward and they leave the alley, walking side by side down the street, silent in their thoughts.

It's been a hard few days here. When they had first arrived at the Foundry, it had been to find all of Team Arrow (because even without Oliver, they are still Team Arrow) already there, heavy and heartbroken. That hasn't changed in such a short span of time, not entirely, but between long meals and longer conversations, sharing memories and wallowing in grief, it's eased a bit. They'd made it through all of dinner together tonight without Felicity crying or Roy closing himself off and leaving abruptly. At one point Cisco (who had arrived on the train with Dr. Wells the day after Barry and Caitlin had), even made everyone laugh and it was like a wall had shattered. Since then, their night has been filled with as many laughing memories as hard ones.

"I'm not sure I'm ready to go back yet," Barry confesses when they've made it nearly a block away. It's abrupt, they've been nothing but silent since they left the alley, but he knows it won't bother Caitlin.

Sure enough, she gives him a sidelong glance and then just nods. "I know what you mean, it feels too early to just leave everyone." The sigh in her words tumbles out like a blizzard, slow at first and then heaving, the decision to leave has clearly been weighing on her as well—Barry feels relieved. "But there's nothing more we can do and it will never feel like the right time."

The ghosts of previous losses drain her words of their usual vibrant certainty and remind him instantly how fundamentally they understand one another. Oliver's apparent death has been hard on everyone, but loss affects them in such a different way then the others—it's a link to past memories that stack themselves upon the layers of fresh sadness like an uninvited houseguest. He knows it's true for both of them, but doubly so for Caitlin, who has spent the last four days hovering carefully within Felicity's gravity, wearing her own lost love on her sleeve like an invitation to Felicity to cry on her shoulder. (Which she's done, and Barry's probably the only one who sees how thoroughly it destroys Caitlin to relieve these memories while sorting through her own grief).

"You're right," he manages, momentarily choked up by the thought: his admiration and affection for her only increasing as it truly occurs to him how much she does for the people she cares about. Suddenly desperate with a desire to see her smile, he nudges her shoulder against hers, flashing a grin and adding, "as usual" to his statement.

Caitlin catches his playful done, feels the gears shift and she's so very, very grateful that she bursts into a sharp, and so foreign of late, bark of laughter, taken completely by surprise. "Now why is that usually so hard for you to admit?" She teases right back, burying herself in the way that her friendship with Barry always manages to ease the exhaustive burdens of grief and guilt. Joking along with him feels like the breath of air she's been gasping for all week.

"I always admit it," he counters, smiling down at her even while they keep treading forward through the streets of Starling. "Just never out loud."

"So difficult." And this time it's her shoulder that finds his, a good portion of her weight against it, but rather than shove, she leans in and stays there, taking comfort from the contact.

He's not sure who the physical connection benefits more, only knows that this is the least he's hurt in days and so he wraps an arm around Caitlin's shoulders and tugs her just a bit closer. "All part of my charm," Barry reassures, his voice gone soft and thoughtful again but still a little lighter than it's been in days. This is what they do for each other, share the weight of their burdens across two sets of shoulders, so that they can face whatever lies ahead.

Wrapped in the comfort of touch, a smile plays on Caitlin's lips and she feels hope for the first time since her phone rang and the name John Diggle heralded in a new world for them all. Nothing's solved or fixed or better, Oliver is still gone and they all still miss him and it still hurts to think about, but she knows something about grief she didn't the first time she lost someone she'd never imagined living without: it is survivable if you don't face it alone. So she lays her head on Barry's shoulder and they wander a while more until their chests feel looser and their breaths come easier and they're ready to help carry the weight of everyone's sadness again. They turn back together and even when they arrive back at the Foundry, they continue to lean against each other the way they've been doing for months—emotionally, mentally, physically.

* * *

><p>I just wanted to continue to examine some of Team Flash's reactions to Oliver's 'death', as it wasn't done in the show and I thought that given Caitlin and Barry's experiences with loss, it would be interesting to watch them react to it together.<p> 


	20. what you mean to me

what you mean to me

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><p>Like most things in the lives of vigilantes and superheroes, it takes a ridiculously long time for John and Lyla to plan and actually have their wedding—something always manages to come up. The date that ends up sticking (after near deaths, foiled villainous plots, head-spinning altercations with time travel and a slew of everyday bad guys) is just a few weeks shy of Sara Diggle's third birthday, which is completely okay because Sara looks so cute in her flower girl dress that it makes up for the frustrations that have gone with the planning (and rescheduling) process.<p>

To absolutely everyone's surprise, the two weeks leading up to the wedding and the day of end up being almost completely calm, as if evil itself has decided to just let them get on with it already.

The guest list is relatively small—the few relatives they both have left, about two dozen old military friends, a handful of ARGUS coworkers Lyla actually likes and of course, the extended Arrow family (as Felicity likes to call it) which includes the entirety of the Central City crew. Oliver stands up as John's best man, with Roy and his old army buddy, Tucker, rounding out the groomsmen. Lyla's little sister, college roommate and Felicity make up the bridal party while A.J. holds the rings and stands with Sara, smiling proudly for his Uncle John's big day.

They get married in the backyard of the reclaimed Queen mansion, under a tent strung with lights that will keep the party going long after the bright summer sunshine fades behind the horizon. Everything is simple, draped in white, silver and black and is all the more beautiful for the simplicity and the happiness that exudes from the couple.

It's the sort of perfect day that makes you believe in the impossible (or so Barry will say later, only to be teased mercilessly by Cisco and Roy).

Everyone is still a little surprised by how flawlessly the day has gone so far, when the DJ announces the official entrance of the wedding party. Sitting at a table sipping champagne, Barry bursts out in laughter as Oliver Queen robot dances his way onto the makeshift dance floor at the front of the tent. "Please tell me that this is being recorded," he comments to Thea, who is sitting on Cisco's right watching her boyfriend strut his way forward as well.

"Every second," she laughs, wondering how effective the Arrow and Arsenal would be fighting crime if the bad guys could see this. Felicity, at least, seems to have some sense of rhythm and she follows the maid of honor up.

From Barry's right, also laughing but doing her very best to muffle it, Caitlin speaks up, teasing. "I don't remember you looking much more coordinated at Iris and Eddie's wedding Barry," which definitely gets his attention and stops his chuckles instantly. Cisco hoots out an agreement and then assures Thea that they too have video evidence somewhere.

The grand march ends and the focus shifts to the couple's first song—the wedding party falls back for the moment, standing at the edges of the dance floor as the other guests move forward to watch the happy couple sway. Felicity takes Sara from Laurel, who had been holding the toddler through the previous song, and the two women smile and chat and amuse the little girl while Oliver hovers nearby. Thea winds through the small assemblage to find Roy and Cisco becomes distracted by flirting with Lyla's younger sister, Amy.

As the first round of the chorus is winding down, the DJ invites everyone to join Mr. John and Mrs. Lyla Diggle in their first dance. Laurel snatches back her sister's namesake, so that Oliver and Felicity can join in, swaying dramatically with the laughing little girl. Thea tugs an un-protesting Roy to the floor and Cisco manages to get a dance with a giggling Amy.

Barry watches all this for a quick moment before turning to the woman next to him, a smile on his lips and in his eyes. Like always, Caitlin looks absolutely beautiful. He's known this for years but the thought has been taking an increasing hold in his mind for a while now, kick started, perhaps, by how she'd looked standing on the other side of the aisle at Iris's wedding this past winter. Right now she's wearing a pale blue and white dress, her hair tumbling over her shoulders in soft curls and a smile that is so warm that it makes his heart stutter in his chest.

_Oh if falling's how you feel and perfect's what you see, then I'd be what you mean to me._

The lyrics of John and Lyla's wedding song seem insanely appropriate in this moment, especially when Caitlin feels his gaze on her and drags her own attention from the slowly filling dance floor to Barry. Her brow quirks in a question, head titling ever so slightly to one side. "Everything okay?"

He just grins that grin that, increasingly, only Caitlin seems to be able to bring out and extends a hand. "Everything's perfect," he's utterly sincere. It's taken a long few years to get them to this point, to a place where he's not in love with Iris (is ridiculously happy for her and Eddie—is so glad that they've all become such a close group of friends that Caitlin had stood up in the wedding and Cisco had been an usher), to a place where she's not still mourning the loss of Ronnie and the leaving of Firestorm, to a place where he sometimes glimpses a future where they're together and so very, very happy, to a place where he thinks they both know they're hovering on the precipice of something more, but he wouldn't trade the progress for anything—every long moment, setback and stumble are completely worth it. "Dance with me?" He asks, as those thoughts flash through his mind fast as lightning.

The way she looks at him, eyes bright and smiling softly, and extends her hand without a moment's hesitation, squeezes his chest in the best way. They thread themselves amongst friends, family and strangers and settle into a swaying rhythm with the song, Barry's fingers sprawl across Caitlin's hips, and hers splay along his shoulder blades. It's a country song, one he only knows because they've been listening to it seemingly on repeat the last few days as they've gotten everything ready for the wedding (John hadn't wanted to look like a fool dancing off-beat) but it's become so familiar that he finds himself singing quietly along as he gazes down at Caitlin.

"_If I could be the fire in your firefly, the cool in the rain, the spark in your eye, the answer to your prayer and the faith that sets you free, then I'd be what you mean to me."_

Caitlin holds his gaze for a long moment, enjoying the quiet of his voice moving over the singers. "It's a pretty song," she murmurs after a few beats, as the chorus picks up again. Barry's hands move to pull her a little closer, closing around her waist, which cause hers to automatically slide around his neck, the tips of her fingers playing with the hair at his nape.

"It is," he agrees, relishing in how easy and comfortable it feels to share space with her, how even as natural as it is, it still raises his heartbeat and makes him feel like he's running fill tilt without ever having to be the Flash. "Second prettiest thing in the room right now," Barry adds fondly, tipping his forehead gently against hers, their eyes catching and holding for a long moment, before hers skitter toward the bride and groom.

"Lyla does look lovely," she comments after a beat, smiling mischievously, dark eyes flicking back up to Barry's. She knows he isn't talking about Lyla, can feel everything shifting between them as surely as he can, but can't resist giving him a hard time about it.

His eyes roll at the comment: he knows that she's playing with him and it's just one more piece in the endless puzzle of reasons he's been falling for this brilliant woman. "Third prettiest then," he settles on. "Lyla does look beautiful but I'm a little biased about what takes the top spot on that list."

Pulling away slightly, Barry presses a kiss to her forehead to punctuate the statement and gives her a playful wink. Caitlin just tugs him back to settle her cheek against his shoulder for the last piece of the song, the soft quirk of her lips absolutely radiant with warm happiness.

"_The lights down low, dancin' slow, oh if fallin's how you feel and perfect's what you see, then I'd be what you mean to me. Yeah if fallin's how you feel…"_ He sings out the remainder of the lyrics, Caitlin tucked against him, feeling like maybe they're about to finally tip over the precipice they've been balancing on for so very, very long.

The DJ breaks the final notes to thank everyone and congratulate the bride and groom on their first dance and Caitlin uses that moment of distraction to toss them completely over their self constructed edge. Barry is straightened up to peer over at Digg and Lyla, grinning, so she trails her hands over the back of his neck, holding his face against her palms to guide his lips to hers. They break apart while the room is still echoing with applause, everyone oblivious to them except for them. Smiling softly, but not the least bit sheepish, Caitlin lets his forehead fall against her own again. "That's exactly what you mean to me Barry."

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><p>Diggle Wedding Snowbarry with all sorts of other friends and implied couples! This fic has been on my list for ages now but I saw Brett Eldridge in concert a few weeks ago and when I heard this song I knew it was what I needed to write this fic. It's a pretty song, I listened to it on repeat for the two or so hours it took to write this.<p>

Just some clarification, this is set about 2.5-3 years into the future. Everyone knows each other's secrets and are friends and what have you. I have a deep need/love for the idea of Caitlin and Iris becoming wonderful friends (and eventually torturing Barry with childhood stories) so you see a snippet of that in here. Plus, Digg being happy is always on my tops list so wedding :)

I'm two weeks behind on Arrow so this might be even more unlikely than it currently is, but hopefully you can still enjoy it. As always, feedback, suggestions and prompts are always welcome. If you've sent a prompt, I promise I've got it on my list, but I've got tons from you folks, and a list of my own, so I'm steadily working my way through them.

Thanks & best wishes!

A.O.R.


	21. swimming lessons

Anonymous asked: A Snowbarry prompt: Not a couple yet!snowbarry. Barry finds out Caitlin can't swim, so he takes her to the local pool to teach her. Things get a bit handsy. Thanks!

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><p><strong>swimming lessons<strong>

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><p>"Barry Allen, is this really necessary?" Caitlin sounds twelve different kinds of not amused as she peers at him over the rims of her sunglasses, completely ignoring the rest of their group (though they all sneak glances at the pair, each completely amused by the exchange).<p>

Barry just beams boyishly at her. "Completely necessary Caitlin Snow." His comment prompts an eye roll that he ignores, instead continuing to help Cisco and Eddie unpack the Escape, while Iris scans around for a good place to set up their stuff.

It's a rare day off for the whole of the group. No meta human threats have been on the horizon, things are calm at the police station and Iris had switched weekends at Jitters with the hopes of enjoying at least one day of her last spring break before graduating. The plan to hit up the beach had come up a few weeks ago when, completely by accident, Caitlin had confessed to Barry and Cisco that she had never learned to swim. Given the number of large lakes and beaches nearby, the guys had decided it was high time she learned.

And so here they are: at a not-quite crowded lake, unpacking way more stuff than a single day at the beach should necessitate and enjoying their mid-twenties in a way they rarely do. (That was the argument that had gotten her here, if she's honest. That and the promise of a few hours just relaxing in the sunshine, reading the book she has tucked away in her bag.)

Once they find a spot and set up, the rest of the morning passes by harmlessly enough. Barry, Eddie and Cisco play Frisbee for a while, their throws growing increasingly haphazard as they try and get the others to miss. Caitlin and Iris read for a bit, before getting distracted by the guys' antics and start talking instead. They chat about school and work and their shared friends until Barry, Cisco and Eddie drop back on the collection of blankets each grumbling something to the effect of being ready for lunch. Everyone swaps around sandwiches and soda and stories while the sun climbs higher.

It's actually pretty nice, Caitlin thinks, this whole pretending to be normal people thing. She'd been too focused on her studies, then her work, to ever do these kinds of things before. Even with Ronnie, they'd had each other and their friends at S.T.A.R. Labs but she's never really had a core group of people like this. Friends who do things like spend a Saturday at the beach just because. She's in the middle of musing about how much she likes it, when Barry catches her attention.

She looks up, caught off guard, to see him standing above her, hand outstretched, wearing a smile that definitely doesn't mean anything good. "Time for your swimming lesson."

Caitlin can't help it, she groans. "Do we have to do this?" She's made it two and a half decades without needing to know how to swim and she's done perfectly fine for herself. Still, she remembers a long ago conversation about predictability and things being better, and so she huffs her displeasure but reaches for his hand nonetheless.

"Definitely," is Barry's initial reply, his grin widening when she gives up easily. Catching her hand, he tugs her up effortlessly before toeing off his sandals and ditching his t-shirt. He's been looking forward to this since the idea had formed and he's certainly not going to let her get out of it. Still, he can only imagine that learning something new, something that most people learn as children, might be a little nerve wracking and he doesn't want to force her into something she's completely against, so he amends his comment thoughtfully only a moment later. "If you really don't want to, I won't force you but you know I wouldn't let anything happen to you Cait."

And damn him, because it's the sincerity of that statement that erases any lingering doubts she has (well, 99% of them anyway). "I know that," is her instant reply, voice a little softer than it had been before. She too removes her flip-flops before reaching down to tug off the sundress she's been wearing over her black halter-top bikini. She doesn't notice the way Barry's eyes cast over her bare skin, too busy folding her dress and depositing it back into her bag (the others notice, trading wide, mischievous grins before hastily returning their attention the their previous tasks). "Alright, let's get this over with." Knowing he won't let her drown does not immediately remove her misgivings, after all.

The way Barry smiles, looking lighter then he has in a long time, far more his age than usual, might though. Despite herself, she feels a little excited as they make their way to the edge of the lake and start wading in. The water's still a little cold, given that it's only April, but by the time it's halfway up her torso, Caitlin's adjusted pretty well.

Deeming them out far enough, Barry begins basic instruction, teasingly explaining the absolute basics of buoyancy and weight distribution. "Really Barry?" Caitlin scoffs, using a cupped palm to send a wave of water at his face.

The water hits its target, catching him straight in the mouth. "Hey!" And he splashes back immediately, sending a disproportionately large surge of water at Caitlin, leaving her hair plastered around her face. Not one to be outdone, she fires in return and the swimming lesson dissolves into a splash war, their toes still firmly entrenched in the silty lake bottom.

Barry tries to call out a cease-fire a few minutes later, but Caitlin's laughter is so carefree that he abandons the plan and immediately changes course. Ducking below the surface, Barry swims beneath fast as a flash and comes up with his arms around Caitlin's middle, tickling her bare sides in an attempt to gain some leverage. She squirms in his grasp, gasping for air, giggling like crazy and desperately trying to get away.

Adjusting his grip to avoid her flailing arms, Barry tugs her closer, flush against his chest, and uses his scant few inches of height advantage to grin cheekily down at her. "Truce?"

Winded, grateful for a reprieve from his wriggling fingers, Caitlin turns her head to look at him, twisting slightly in his grasp and causing his hands to run along her mostly bare hips. The feeling of his fingers, warm despite the cool water, holding her in place against him is at once sobering and exhilarating. She quirks an eyebrow at him, but doesn't comment on the placement although her heartbeat does speed up when his fingers only press a little bit more firmly against her skin. "I suppose I can let you surrender," she teases, refusing to be flustered.

Barry's not entirely certain he feels the same because the way her skin slides against his is definitely distracting, especially when he feels his fingers stray over the edges of her bikini bottoms. He tightens his grip reflexively and turns her a little more, so that she's all but sitting sideways in his arms, the heel of her left foot dragging along his calf in the tow of the water. "Surrender?" He questions, letting himself fall back into the familiar pattern of teasing to steady his fraying nerves. All the same, he's unable to resist winding her up further and his fingers slide up her sides (goose bumps rising along the flesh) and begin to tickle her again.

Caitlin all but shrieks, her own hands gliding up so that one presses against his clavicle and the other wraps around his bicep. "Okay, okay. I'm willing to negotiate a truce!" She breathes, her eyes smiling as they catch Barry's.

A little reluctantly, he lets her go watching as she bobs slightly in the water before settling back against the lake's bottom. "My terms are this swimming lesson," he decides, still smiling. "You know the basics, just float and move and I'll be here if you need me."

Apparently the time for putting this off is past, so Caitlin nods, takes a deep breath and pushes off the bottom so that she's no longer standing but floating in the water. With sweeping gestures and little kicks, she begins to propel herself forward, torn between feeling immensely stupid for splashing around like an idiot (who somehow never learned to swim) and panicked at the way the waves bob her up and down on their path to the shore. She does pretty well for a while, moving in little trails and circles in the space around Barry, who grins with pride as he watches her.

Mentally, she knows she's already got the hang of it (it's swimming, not neuroscience), but there's a piece of her that gives into the panic when a boater in the distance sends a wave that rolls over her head. Caitlin flails stupidly, suddenly in too deep water, but almost immediately after calms as a familiar arm wraps around her waist.

"Easy there Cait," and suddenly her toes are settled back against the silty bottom and for the second time in less than an hour, she finds herself pressed tightly the Barry's chest, her shoulder blades flush against his pectorals and his stomach moving against her back as he speaks. "I've got you, I'm not going to let you drown."

The conviction in his voice ensnares her attention and distracts her from her fears, so she tips her head back to catch his gaze. Caitlin feels a little like she's drowning again but for different, far more pleasant, reasons. She needs to break the tension, and teasing is always their go-to method. "I'm beginning to think the reason you planned all this was so you could do just that."

Barry's chuckle rumbles down her back, chasing a shiver as it moves down her spine. "Aw Cait, you're not even close to guessing my actual ulterior motive."

That catches her attention. "Oh yeah, what's that speedy?"

He knows she's standing on her own two feet now (he's been slowly towing them toward shallower water) so he doesn't feel guilty when he suddenly lets her go to swim a few feet away. "Catch me and I'll tell you."

There's no better motivation for Caitlin Snow to do anything than not losing, so she ignores the lingering prickle of fear and begins to messily swim around chasing after Barry. Eventually she's moving confidently through the water but he can tell she's beginning to tire so he lets her catch him. When she's close enough, Caitlin leaps for his shoulders, pressing her hands on them to push him under the water.

He goes willingly but comes up and catches her a moment later, one arm in its new favorite position, curled around her waist and the other raised in surrender. "Okay, I yield to the mighty Caitlin Snow!" he teases, grinning and dripping in the sun, much like she is. (And she looks absolutely gorgeous, and it's the first time since they've been out here that he lets himself appreciate it, feeling victorious both for having accomplished his mission and for her general proximity).

As she has all afternoon, Caitlin lets him take hold of her, appreciating the help treading in the deeper water almost as much as the feeling of his fingers once again fluttering across her bare skin. She grips both his arms, smiling up at him, rainbows reflecting in the droplets lazily rolling down both their bodies. "So, what was this ulterior motive of yours exactly?"

Barry just grins that cheeky, satisfied grin he's been wearing off and on all day as he replies, "Well, it might have had something to do with seeing you in a swimsuit."

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><p>So light and flirty is not exactly my specialty so it ends up a bit more intense then I would have liked but there's lots of touching and cute moments so hopefully you guys like it. Decided to make this a whole group thing, bringing in the idea of everyone being friends, because I love the thought of them all being actual young adults together. Also, I know that Caitlin mentions going scuba diving in an episode, so the idea of her not being able to swim is ridiculous, but it's a cutefun prompt so a little disbelief is always okay, right?

Anyone whose sent/commented with prompts, I promise they're on my list. I'm trying to work through them all, and I have a set of fics queued up to post here. They will eventually get done though, no worries. I would never abandon a prompt.


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